The Book Club
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: We kiss in February, spend an entire evening together in March and clandestinely rent a suite in April. They bond over literature and accidentally settle down the beginning of a brand new story.
1. Madame Bovary

**The Book Club**

**Madame Bovary****, Gustave Flaubert. 1857.**

_**The story focuses on a doctor's wife, Emma Bovary, who has adulterous affairs and lives beyond her means in order to escape the banalities and emptiness of provincial life. Though the basic plot is rather simple, even archetypal, the novel's true heart lies in its details and hidden patterns. Flaubert was notoriously a perfectionist about his writing and claimed always to be searching for 'le mot juste' (the right word).**_

Actually she knew the suite by heart: its smells, the softness of the sheets against her skin, the way the sun used to pierce through the window at the end of the day. Everything was engraved in her mind with perfect minutiae.

She dropped her coat on a sofa and took off her heels. Her bare feet caressed the carpet in a delicate gesture. She turned around and looked at him.

He wasn't a stranger. She knew the place very well. But yet an intimidating aura was floating above her head, raising a trail of red on her cheeks in a motion of shyness.

He chose one of the old English armchairs that stood by the fireplace and sat comfortably, briefcase in hand. She didn't move, couldn't to be more exact. Her eyes were locked on his slightest movement as if everything depended on him and his desires.

From the leather briefcase suddenly slid off a book. He grabbed it, crossed his legs then cleared his voice. Obviously he was ready.

And so she sat down on a small sofa repeating his movements in a perfect silence.

_We kiss in February, spend an entire evening together in March and__ clandestinely rent a suite in April. For the pleasure of words and literature, we abandon the rest and lock ourselves somewhere just the required time to share sentiments over a chosen novel. It is a sort of book club, with only two members but the whole life ahead to finally feel understood by at least one other soul. _

_A sort of secret pact…_

She tossed her exemplar of the book on the coffee table and grabbed her Martini instead, sipped it. The vodka burnt her throat, warmed up her stomach before going to her head bewitchingly, spreading a well-known, addicting fog over her consciousness. She needed it, especially in this intimate and extremely uncomfortable moment.

"I am glad she died."

She could have chosen to be subtle, to pick up her words with delicacy in order to avoid to shocking him but if giving her sentiments about a novel constituted anyway a sort of introspection into her inner self then she might as well be honest. In the end she would still have this feeling to appear completely naked in front of him.

First sentence harsh and direct; it was the real Karen.

"Her suicide attempt was expected but yet what if she missed out true love because of it?"

She frowned and shook her head, leaned forward. The fluid, constructed movement revealed the paleness of her cleavage but she didn't pay attention to it.

He wasn't a stranger anyway and he would never be.

"She was living in her own world, all along. Her exact existence was built on dreams and fantasies. She married Charles for his comfortable situation. He was a doctor, a nice figure. She thought money would bring her the necessary elements to make her childhood utopias come true. She wasn't made for love and would have never been able to accept it properly for being so lost in her fantasies."

"The name 'Emma' stands for 'house' in German…"

"I know."

"Obviously Flaubert had settled the fate of his heroine since the very beginning. Trapped between four walls and a suffocating roof, a blank marriage…"

"Do you think her death is the symbol of her escape?"

"She was depressed and alone in her head. She might have thought about suicide as an escape but if so, it is a very dry one."

…

A couple of hours later she went back home and headed straight to the library, never bothering to turn the lights on. The night had invaded the sky in deep shades of blue and golden trails of a timid moonlight.

Not a single sound except the beats of her heart, so loud against her chest; she sat down on a sofa and lit a cigarette.

In a rapid gesture she took the book out of her bag. Her fingertips caressed the cover. A tear landed on the title. She whispered, sobbing.

"At least you are free now, Emma."

She brought the cigarette to her lips, inhaled, closed her eyes and leaned her head backwards. Her tears were sharply pressing on her throat, trying to defy gravity and still make their way to her hazel pupils. It was a vain fight as long as sadness wouldn't go away.

"Miss Karen, are you there?"

She swallowed hard and murmured in a vague reply.

"What do you want, Rosie?"

"Why are you in the dark?"

"Don't touch the fucking light…"

"Okay… Will you visit Mr. Stanley tomorrow?"

"Sure, I am his wife."

The maid went away, her heavy steps stifled by the carpeted floor of the long, interminable corridor.

_We kiss in February, we spend an entire evening together in March and we clandestinely rent a suite in April. _

_We kiss in February._

_We kiss._

Her hand let go of the novel that landed on the floor in a quiet motion. She lied down on the sofa and huddled up, looking subconsciously for protection.

"Arsenic… I admire your courage, Emma."

Her cell phone suddenly rang and illuminated in a pale halo of light the library plunged in the dark. She grabbed it, looked at the screen.

Message from Will:

_"A dry escape because death doesn't resolve anything… Emma was wrong; had always been. See you tomorrow for Stanley's weekly visit."_

"No, honey… Emma Bovary was incredibly talented."

But she didn't send this to Will.


	2. Mrs Dalloway

**Mrs. Dalloway****, Virginia Woolf. 1925.**

**_Created from two short stories, "Mrs. Dalloway in Bond Street" and the unfinished "The Prime Minister", the novel's story is of Clarissa's preparations for a party of which she is to be hostess. With the interior perspective of the novel, the story travels forwards and back in time, and in and out of the characters' minds, to construct a complete image of Clarissa's life and of the inter-war social structure. _**

"Are you alright?"

Before Will's sudden concern Karen let go of the pen she had been holding nervously and shrugged, looking away to draw a line under any eventual worry.

"We are here to speak about Clarissa, not me. So let's drop out the subject, would you?"

"You know, as much as this is a book club or whatever you want to call it, it is also a good excuse for me to spend some time with you far from Jack and Grace, without any sort of pressure. I'm not just here to speak about literature and if something is bothering you then you can tell me."

_A good excuse for me to spend some time with you_

The sentence hit her mind with the strength of a pure honesty that didn't need to be calculated. She blushed, instinctively, and offered a pale smile as unique reply and instead concentrated on the novel.

"Another woman who married the wrong man, exactly like Emma Bovary… Even the concept of suicide is studied though this time, it doesn't affect the heroine."

"It is a lot more violent. Jumping out of the window is not as personal, quiet as Emma's decision to swallow arsenic."

"She needed to go into a lonely act that would reflect her personality. Septimus doesn't share the same kind of despair. His is traumatic and can be explained easily since he is a veteran of World War I. Emma suffers from melancholy which causes are a lot blurrier."

"Do you think Clarissa is in love?"

"Yes she is, obviously. She is madly in love with Sally Seton, which introduces the exact notion of homosexuality. It might be a hint given by Virginia Woolf about her own life."

_"Thirty-four years later, I still consider the kiss I shared with Sally to be the happiest moment of my life."_

The sentence hadn't abandoned her since the first time she had read it, plunged as she had been under the warm blanket of her bed. Would she also remember Will's kiss in thirty-four years? Would she still consider it to be the happiest moment of her life? Because it had been; for such tiny seconds she had found herself in harmony with all the rest, in his arms.

"That's why she goes from party to party, just to forget her impossible love and the failure of her marriage with the reliable Richard Dalloway. She leads a very sad life in the end."

Will's cell phone rang, forcing a break in their conversation. From the leather armchair she had chosen, she looked at him standing up and heading to a large table where he had previously abandoned his coat. He took the call.

"Is everything okay, Grace? I'm on a meeting right now."

His lie didn't surprise her. After all, she had been the one who had required not to tell anyone about their secret encounters. It gave something more to the moment, a sort of sweet intimacy they would never change in any other way. The book club was her own fantasy since it was all she would ever get from Will.

"I'm sorry I should have turned it off."

The olive made contact with her mouth and she twirled her tongue around then shook her head at him.

"It's okay, honey."

The olive tasted of vodka, freshly enough to be addicting. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and repeated the same gesture of her head.

It was okay. Grace would always be the first in Will's heart; no matter what she tried.

…

"The Rainbow Room confirmed your reservation for the party of Saturday evening. Mr. Stanley called too…"

"Why did he want? Why did he not call on my cell phone?"

Rosario shrugged, obviously not troubled at all by Karen's dry tone. She was used to it now. Like the pills and the drinks, it was part of the background.

"He wanted to know if you would visit him tomorrow."

"I can't. Brooklyn is too far since I have to attend this party at Annabelle's. Well, maybe that's why the coward didn't call me in the first place. He perfectly knew that my reply would be a negative one."

When she found herself alone in the bathroom, Karen sat down on the edge of the marble tub that overlooked the city. The view was breathtaking but for once she didn't pay attention to the thousand lights piercing through the night. Her eyes focused on the window and how fine the glass was, almost fragile.

Jumping out of it to escape traumas like Septimus or swallowing arsenic like Emma to draw a definitive line under her melancholy; she had the choice since she was suffering from both ideas.

But she wouldn't do it. She didn't have the strength and even less the courage to cross the limits. She belonged to the weak ones, like Clarissa; perpetual dreamers of a better life.

Her flesh finally made contact with the hot water as she sat down in the tub and relaxed. She wanted to call him, to hear his voice before going to sleep. He could have talked randomly that she wouldn't have cared that much; as long as she would have been his interlocutor.

She abandoned the idea in a sigh. She had absolutely no reason to call Will.


	3. The Royal Game

**The Royal Game****, Stefan Zweig. 1942.**

**_A chess match conducted on a cruise liner opposes two contrasting characters: Mirko Czentovic, a peasant prodigy who despite his inability to play from memory bludgeons his way to the world title in a quest for fame and monetary reward and Dr. B. who has an immense imaginative capacity and managed to survive solitary confinement by the Nazis due to his extraordinary feat of playing chess entirely in his mind. The story's main theme is to explore the relation between chess and madness. The story was published after the author's death. Zweig committed suicide._**

She slid her feet out of her shoes and let the stilettos fall down on the floor, the sound stifled by a large, oriental carpet. The fabric of the sofa was soft under her skin, relaxing after a stressful day if not at work then at least in her mind. She hadn't slept very well the night before, rolling over and over in bed as a thousand wonders had kept her brain on track, under a strong spotlight.

Insomnia… She had been suffering from it since the day she had turned five.

"You look tired, and worried."

"And so what, it's far from being the first time, is it?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't think that much. Look what it did to Dr. B."

She lied down on the sofa and turned her head, smiling at Will who was sat in what seemed to have turned now into his official armchair. At some point she had wondered if asking for a new suite each time wouldn't be a better idea, changing hotels too. But the ridiculousness of her self-remark had finally vanished in a box reserved to pointless ideas.

"I'm afraid I don't have this capacity to divide my psyche into two personas: I (white) and I (black) when this dear Dr. B. does. It might be the key, though…"

Crossing her hands on her stomach, Karen concentrated on the ceiling and how the lamps sent back shadows of life up above her head. She didn't manage to put a name under them anymore, didn't manage to identify the forms to animals or things. Her imagination had faded away as the years had gone by.

"The key to…"

Before Will's obvious perplexity, she shrugged matter-of-factly.

"To forget all these things that darken our days, steal our nights. The brain might go blank then but at least we stop thinking and so we relax."

"But it's this exact psychological conflict that causes him to ultimately suffer a breakdown, after which he eventually awakens in a sanatorium. He plays against himself within the confines of his own mind until he becomes delirious. If it's the key to our problems, then it's quite a radical one."

"We can't win all the time, honey."

"Why don't we speak anymore?"

The question took her aback completely and rolling on her side, Karen stared at Will with confusion. She swallowed hard, breathed slowly. Of course she knew what he meant but there were just some things she couldn't face properly anymore for a reason she kept on ignoring.

"I'm fine."

Lame lie betrayed by her shaking voice and she looked down intently at the floor.

"Is it because of Stan?"

The words caressed her lips but didn't come out properly. She frowned, perplexed before her own difficulty to make the light on her problems and the weight of those heavy feelings.

"I don't know… I don't know anymore."

"Perhaps you should seek for a model through Czentovic, then."

The remark lit up a pale smile on her lips. She nodded, half-convinced by his words; charmed by the sweetness of his attention.

"Yeah… And so I wouldn't have any memory."

"Life requires the same strategy as chess. As much as you have to anticipate your next move and the others' ones, sometimes you have to let your instinct guide you through your doubts."

…

She hadn't had a glass of wine in a while. Her preferences had gone towards vodka, a stronger taste and burning sensation left on her throat as if drinking had all of a sudden turned into a punishment and she wasn't supposed to enjoy it. Sometimes it even brought tears to her eyes and that sounded right.

The wine brushed her lips and she let it enter her mouth slowly. She closed her eyes.

"According to a recent study, 80% of people end up marrying one of their friends."

Grace's comment grabbed her back to reality and leaned on the countertop of the kitchen, Karen stared at her friend in silence, the wine making its way down her throat absent-mindedly.

Sat on the couch of the living-room, Jack burst out laughter and took Grace's magazine to get more information on the so-called article.

"Come on, it's ridiculous! Sleeping with one of their friends, yes why not, but marrying… Well, at least I seriously doubt one of us is going to lead another to the chapel!"

"That doesn't mean some of us aren't made for each other, Jack."

If Karen hadn't drunk much wine lately, it seemed to be very different when it came to Grace unless she had just turned extremely talkative and on the verge to reveal one of her secret ideas. From his armchair Will laughed lightly, obviously amused at Jack's reaction before Grace's new comment.

How come the three of them didn't realize that she had remained silent, alone in the background, almost paralyzed?

"And whom are you thinking about exactly?"

"Will and Karen, of course, Jack… I mean, it's so obvious. Come on, Will! You two are made for each other. You don't need to speak to understand what the other thinks; you share identical opinions on numerous topics and this way of always arguing teasingly… You would be a cute couple if you were together. Now we all know it will never happen but still; end of the story."

_En of the story…_

But what if in spite of her friends' lightness and facility to pass to another topic, Karen wanted to keep on talking about it or even better, say it was just the beginning?

She stepped out on the terrace to light a cigarette and try, as Czentovic, to have no memory.


	4. Sophie's choice

**Sophie's choice****, William Styron. 1979.**

**_It concerns a young American Southerner, an aspiring writer, who befriends the Jewish Nathan Landau and his beautiful lover Sophie, a Polish (but non-Jewish) survivor of the Nazi concentration camps. The decision that shapes the character Sophie is sometimes used as an idiom. A "Sophie's Choice" is a tragic choice between two unbearable options. When she arrived to a concentration camp, Sophie was asked to choose whom from her two children, she wanted to save: her daughter or her son. She chose Jan, her son. Eva the little girl got gazed.  
_**

"I'm sorry… I completely forgot to confirm the booking."

The cars stopped and let the passers-by crossed the avenue with the indifference of purely random acts. Caught in the crowd, they did as well without knowing where to go. Will shrugged.

"It's okay. Let's just find a café or something."

But the streets were crowded, a loud mass invading the stores and the sidewalks with gigantic bags in their arms. They kept on walking down Fifth Avenue for a while, in silence, looking desperately at every single coffee shop they passed by but none of them seemed to have the slightest seat available, which was pretty logical at five in the afternoon on a sunny Saturday.

They finally pushed the doors of a Starbucks and landed on two chairs facing the street. It had nothing intimate, nothing idyllic for a conversation over literature but that was all what was left.

"What do you want?"

"A cappuccino would be fine, thanks…"

Will headed to the counter and she looked back at the street from her uncomfortable chair, lost in the cacophony of the coffee shop. It was her fault. She was in charge of the suite and she hadn't fulfilled her role properly, for a reason she couldn't even manage to explain. Nothing special had happened that week, nothing planned that would have eventually kept her away from it.

A cup of cappuccino slid on the wooden counter in front of her as Will sat down and studied the comings and goings in the street.

"I would have never been able to take the slightest decision if I had been Sophie. I would have killed myself and let fate decide over the rest… Have you ever thought about having children, Karen?"

The hot drink suddenly got icy on her throat and she swallowed hard, moving nervously on her seat.

"I would have saved Eva. I would have saved my daughter."

"You haven't answered my question."

"What kind of mother could come to such quick conclusion as I just did, Will? I guess it is all said."

"I hope you will never regret it."

His comment stirred up a bitter laugh that very soon came to die on her lips. Someone had opened the door. She could feel the iciness of the breeze on her neck, sending shivers down her spine uncontrollably.

"There are yet so many things I regret that honestly, one more or one less… I'm not sure it will make a big difference in the end."

"I might not know for the other ones but obviously having children is not too late."

"We don't make children to resolve problems."

It wasn't that she hadn't meant it but the idea hadn't even crossed her mind before. Problems; everyone had to deal with his own dose of issues but she had kept on pretending that hers were way too pale to be cared about. Her own words had just proved her the exact opposite and nobody had been expecting that, neither Will or her.

"Karen…"

"That's okay, I'm fine. I don't even know why I said that in the first place. I'm sorry, let's just forget it."

"No, let's talk about it."

Will's resistance made her gasp and for the very first time since they had started their conversation, she locked her eyes with him, angrily.

"Excuse me?"

"There is nothing worse than regrets, than living your whole life with the weight of unbearable what-ifs and the cold, bitter realization that we are here for no reason in the end since it all got broken into pieces. Look what happened to Sophie."

"She's pure fiction, Will!"

"You got the metaphor. You're not stupid. Sophie is like Emma, Mrs. Dalloway and all the others who thought that at some point, they would be able to overcome their regrets. They killed themselves or had to face the exact notion of death. You can't let that happen to you."

The conversation was reaching a degree of high intimacy that didn't match at all with the background, the impersonality of the coffee shop and its loud, boiling life. It was uncomfortable. Their murmurs hurt a lot more than screams and the strength of their angry gazes brought a rare intensity to what Karen was sure would be her demise.

"Life isn't that easy, Will. I can't make all my whims come true. I have to think about the consequences, a thousand reasons that prevent me from doing so unless I want to break down the whole balance of what is yet a very precarious existence. I can't. I am not allowed to fulfill every single fantasy I have, no matters how I wish I could though…"

_We kissed in February. You kissed me in February, when we were dancing. I'm sure you don't even remember it. The spotlight dance on Shelter Island… It was Valentine's Day and you kissed me. _

_I wish we had stayed there dancing. I would have kissed you back and we would be happy.  
_

Her hazel eyes got lost in Will's brown ones. She shook her head miserably, swallowing back a wave of tears.

"I wish I didn't have to regret this, Will."

And before she even realized it, Karen leaned over and captured his lips. Within a second she found back the softness she had succumbed to in February, the same that had stirred up this boiling warmness in her lower stomach; the one that had stolen her nights from then on and risen a veil of doubts.

Someone let go of a porcelain mug and it crashed loudly on the floor. The sound got reason of the kiss and as the spell faded away, Karen broke apart abruptly. Why did reality always seem so harsh in those moments?

She had always imagined that in such circumstances, the fear would let her paralyzed and that she wouldn't be able to articulate the slightest thing. But she did. She grabbed her bag and rushed away, apologizing softly.


	5. Sophie's choice suite

**Sophie's choice****, suite**

Life wasn't worth it if you didn't stand for your choices, didn't assume the slightest bit of your feelings and kept on breathing quietly, living everything on a secretive way. Those words didn't make any sense, anymore. The truth was that they had probably been thrown in at some point just to fool people around. And it worked. It worked so well that it hurt.

She turned at the corner of West 38th and speeded up the pace of her steps. Of course he hadn't followed her, hadn't called her name in the crowd and even less run to grab her wrist, stopping her immediately. No, he hadn't done the slightest thing because he was as ashamed as she could be.

Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her coat. She didn't take the call and remained concentrated on the dark asphalt instead of checking who was trying to reach her, in vain. There was no chance it to be Will and even if it had been, what would have she been able to say? She wasn't sorry at all. She had wanted this kiss more than anything.

Times Square appeared in front of her in a boiling mass of colors and sounds and as her stilettos began to hurt, she hailed a cab and stepped in almost immediately.

"Where do we go?"

The driver had a strong Polish accent, mostly covered by the tunes playing on the radio. Her hazel eyes crossed his in the rearview mirror and she shrugged, feeling suddenly empty and exhausted.

"I have no idea."

"And I have no time for this kind of game."

A couple of bills of one hundred put an end to the pointless conflict and very soon Broadway vanished in a bitter souvenir. The buildings speeded past in front of her eyes, following the architecture of every single district she was going through. And all of a sudden it appeared, there in front of her, dark as a ribbon of fears spreading over the immensity of the world.

The Atlantic Ocean…

"Let's just stop here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes… No… I mean… I need to go out and breathe."

"Do you want me to stay here? You don't look very fine. You're pale."

"I have always been. Don't be worried."

She stepped out of the car and slammed the door, plunged her hands in the pockets of her coat before heading slowly to a bench that, during the day, overlooked the breathtaking view of the ocean. By night it just seemed to be looking after the dark, blankly.

She sat down there, her figure caressed by the pale neon of a streetlight.

_We kiss in February, we spend an evening together in March bonding over literature, we rent a suite in April to keep alive those peculiar meetings and all of a sudden I kiss you back. But three months have passed by. An entire life for you… _

_Madame Bovary, Mrs. Dalloway, Czentovic, Sophie… I wish I were like them, completely fictive and deprived of feelings._

"It is quite cold over here. You're going to be sick."

His voice made her jump, gasp. She frowned.

"What are you doing here? How do you know…"

Smiling shyly, Will took out of his pocket her Blackberry and waved at her with it.

"You took mine by accident. I tried to call you but you didn't answer. I have a security setting on mine, in case I lose it."

"Oh… I see."

She felt stupid, stupid and confused; so ashamed now that he was standing there in front of her.

"Karen…"

"No, don't say anything. It's too late anyway."

"And what if I don't want to call it a night?"

"Well I still do because it is the way things are supposed to be; end of the conversation. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go."

Karen stood up and passed past him, avoiding his gaze meticulously.

"Don't ignore me. I don't want us to come back to the very beginning when we barely spoke to each other. I don't want to stop our weekly encounters. I don't want to put an end to it. I don't want any of that."

"Really? Well, I didn't want to start drinking in the first place and I nonetheless did so deal with it."

She speeded up the pace, walking right in the middle of the empty street. Manhattan could be so quiet sometimes by night, almost like abandoned. And it let a sentiment of discomfort over your mind as if something had happened and it wasn't the way it was supposed to be, like ruins after a storm.

"Karen, wait!"

"Leave me alone!"

"I don't want to!"

She stopped and rolled her eyes. Was she any good at pretending to be exasperated by his words? She seriously doubted it but at least there was nobody else to witness her fatal failure over her feelings.

"Don't you understand, Will? We can't. For obvious reasons, it has to stop."

"No, you don't understand. I don't want to."

The firmness of his voice took her aback but her heart actually began to beat faster when his hand slid on her waist and he held her tight. Her knee was brushing his leg. Her chest was too close to him. He leaned over; as if the bare distance wasn't enough yet to make it all look like a pure torture. Swallowing hard, he searched for her eyes then murmured.

"I need to be with you, Kare. I want you... I love you."


	6. Breakfast at Tiffany's

**Breakfast at Tiffany's****, Truman Capote. 1958.**

**_The novella tells the story of a one-year friendship between the main character Holiday ('Holly') Golightly and an unnamed narrator. The two are both tenants in a brownstone apartment in Manhattan's Upper East Side. Holly Golightly is a country girl, turned New York café society girl who makes her living coaxing dollars off of rich, older gentlemen. _**

As his hand caressed her bare shoulder and he planted a kiss in the depths of her neck, she realized that his flesh had turned cold with the morning as if the night had vanished suddenly, stealing the warmth of whatever had happened. She restrained a shiver, frowned and kept on staring blankly by the window which only view was reduced to a mere wall of bricks on the other side of the street.

"What are you thinking about?"

At least he hadn't bothered with the random, conventional 'good morning' that made it all freeze within a second. The bitter taste on her mouth remained though. She sighed.

"I'm thinking about Holly and how Truman Capote has described a fictive character that looks so much like me. I have never met him, of course. Besides by then, I was still a child. But Holly and I are disturbingly alike."

"You aren't coaxing dollars off of rich men…"

"Of course, I am. There's no need to lie."

"But Holly didn't seem to have the slightest conscious about that. She still could find her sleep by night. You aren't like that. Or you would be less sad…"

"It is not sadness but despair, Will, especially after what we have just done. You shouldn't have said some things. I should have gone away before we kissed and so we wouldn't have ended up here."

Her eyes wandered from the window to a chair where she had abandoned her coat absent-mindedly, lost as she had been in the adrenalin of their clumsy gestures.

"You know that I mean every single word I said."

Will's insistence got on her nerves and she sighed loudly, exasperated. It didn't make sense at all. As a matter of fact, life had stopped making any sense the day before when he had grabbed her by the waist and told her all these things; how he loved her. The rest logically belonged to a complete nonsense.

"This is not a stupid soap-opera romance so save it up. I'm married, you're my friend, we had sex and everything is screwed; no matters what happens next."

"I wasn't planning to kidnap you or make an announcement."

"Coward…"

"Maybe but at least I'm honest with you."

"For what it changes…"

"Tell me why you think you're like Holly."

But the bed suddenly turned too small, suffocating. She got up unexpectedly and headed to the bathroom, shaking her head at Will.

What could she do, anyway? Playing the perfect new couple would have been ridiculous if not pointless at all. She had cheated on her husband. For the very first time in her life, Karen hadn't respected the vows of her marriage and it made her feel bad. So she couldn't enjoy being in Will's arms. She wasn't allowed to.

"Don't go away from me, please."

Will's soft remark hurt her harshly. She rushed in the shower, ran the water to stifle his voice and reactions.

"Karen, speak to me."

The proximity of his voice made her jump but she remained under the water and closed her eyes firmly. He didn't sound mad at all but completely lost, in pain somehow.

"Sure you're a bit mysterious about your past like Holly but I don't see any other point in common. And yet the comparison is interesting or better said, the way you came up with it. You sounded distressed."

"And how should I have felt after having sex with a gay friend?"

"Don't torture yourself with that. We have all the life to deal with it…"

"Well perhaps you do but I don't. I never had to be more precise."

"Then let it explode for once instead of burying it deep inside where it probably hurts like hell. Get free of it!"

She stopped the water and pushed away the shower curtain, coming to an unexpected face-to-face with Will who was standing on the edge of the tub.

"Like Holly, I don't know who I am. I don't know what mine is until after I have thrown it away. I always abandon everything to seek my elusive goal of finding riches and a real place to call home. But it doesn't work. It is just a failure after another and all the things I touch turn into cold water. My whole life is a mess and I'm sorry to have included you like that in it. You deserve better. I should simply disappear."

He should have replied. He should have said something instead of staying there in front of her, a bit astonished.

"Leave me alone, Will. I'm running late. It's Saturday. You know I visit Stan in jail on Saturdays."

Twenty minutes later Karen stepped out in the street and looked around for a cab. But the financial district was too quiet on weekends and there was no car to be seen. She turned on her left and walked up towards Midtown, hands in the pockets of her coat; her mind lost in the blurry sentiments of unforgivable acts.

A cab finally appeared. She hailed it and left everything behind; her night with Will. Exactly like Holly, she ran away from her feelings.


	7. The House of Mirth

**The House of Mirth****, Edith Wharton. 1905.**

**_Broken orphan, Lily Bart wants to marry a wealthy man even though she is in love with an attorney, Lawrence Selden. Too honest to sell her own self, but her carefree attitude weighing so much, she sees all the doors to high society getting close to her. With an art very similar to her dear friend Henry James', Edith Wharton describes New-York high society, its brightness and its wealth, but also its deep corruption. _**

"I did something bad."

But against all expectations, her sentence didn't find any resonance and she looked at her friend with a slight despair. Completely unaware of what she had just said, he kept on rummaging around pointlessly. She closed her eyes, sighed and repeated louder this time.

"I did something bad, I said."

Jack finally stopped and looked at her with an ounce of curiosity but obviously, he wasn't that worried either. She bit her lower lip.

"I guess I'm making a mistake, a big one."

"And what have you done that you came to such conclusions, Kare?"

Her distress spread over her heart that all of a sudden turned heavy. She shook her head and made a face, torn.

"I can't tell. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone."

Jack restrained a gasp badly as his self-esteem let him realize that she hadn't told him everything about her private life but for once he didn't insist and sat down next to her on a sofa lost in the middle of the lingerie section at Barney's.

"What makes you think that you're doing something wrong?"

"The consequences… If I don't stop and decide to go on instead, something bad is going to happen and ruin a yet necessary balance."

"Then you know what you should do."

A woman in her forties passed next to them and stopped, admiring a lacy bra a bit absent-mindedly. Karen looked down at her lap.

"But… I'm not sure…"

At this exact moment a loud, female voice pierced the murmurs that were being said and made both friends jump in surprise.

"Karen!"

A tall blonde approached and kissed Karen falsely as she stood up from the velvet couch.

"How are you, Amanda? It's been a long time."

"Oh, I'm exhausted. We just came back from Rosalie's Easter party in The Hamptons. I was surprised you didn't make it there, this year. But well, you were probably busy with your weekly encounters."

Amanda winked at her but without the slightest bit of delicacy, a bright smile playing on her lips.

"What encounters are you talking about?"

"Henry saw you a couple of times at The Four Seasons heading up to the floors with some charming man… He told me you rented a suite. Those places are like little villages, full of gossip."

She wouldn't have felt so bad if Jack hadn't been standing by her side, looking now at her with deep confusion. In the meantime her heart had dangerously slowed down as her blood had turned icy in her veins, sending shivers down her spine as soon as she dared to take a short breath of suffocating air.

"Oh you mean, Will and I? He is my attorney and with Stanley being in jail, we need to meet professionally quite a lot. It's… It's not always easy."

She could have said that they met to speak about literature and the feelings it stirred up, there was nothing shameful about it. But things had changed now that they had gone further, way further. Besides, the book club was part of her rare secret pleasures.

"Yes, sure… Whatever works for you! Anyway, I'm running desperately late so I have to go now. Have a nice day and see you soon. Will you be at Mary's party next Saturday?"

But Amanda didn't even wait for Karen's answer and disappeared as quickly as she had come up a few minutes earlier.

"Let's go back home, Jackie. I'm tired."

The weak tone of her voice betrayed a bitter lassitude but for once she didn't care that much. Something had got damaged and she had just noticed it. Since Stanley's arrest, her social life had slowed down a lot and the one who had once made the envy of any host had now been put in a blurry, darker category. With her husband in jail, she had ceased to be invited to the most prestigious parties, had been put aside by New York high society.

And one more time Karen felt like she had been abandoned by her own family, if not betrayed and forgotten.

Jack stepped into a cab. She paid for his journey but headed herself towards The Upper East Side and her luxurious mansion, up flirting with the sky. On rainy days, it even happened that the last floor got lost among the clouds and all of a sudden it was the whole Manhattan that seemed to disappear all around.

She passed the oak door and got wrapped in an icy silence. Sometimes she missed the cacophony of her childhood, the small suburban houses where she had to share her room with her sister and if she put her ear against the wall, she could hear the neighbor's television that was always on. At least everything seemed alive by then, made sense.

The fireplace was on in the library. She grabbed a shawl, sat down on a sofa by the warmth flames and turned her laptop on.

_Did you know that my father used to call me Lily? My mother changed to Kiki after he passed away because I just couldn't face the nickname anymore. It hurt too much, quietly. _

_I might share my melancholy with Emma Bovary and Mrs. Dalloway but if I really had to identify myself with a heroine, it would have to be Lily from The House of Mirth. Because I'm just like her and will always be. _

_I need to see you. I guess we have to talk about a thousand things. I miss you. _

She didn't sign but pressed the button 'send' immediately and her email went straight to Will.


	8. The Devil Wears Prada

**The Devil Wears Prada****, Laura Weisberger. 2003**

**_Freshly graduated, Andrea finds a job as Miranda Priestly's personal assistant, the editor in chief of the prestigious fashion magazine Runway. What is considered as a real chance by millions of young women finally turns into a bitter reality, a nightmare full of stilettos, gossip and whims._**

The door opened, she stepped in and all of a sudden the cacophony of the street ceased. Those places, capable to stifle immediately the slightest noise coming from outside, were very few in Manhattan and so, very select. Only a couple of lounges and some restaurants could pretend to such degree of quietness and intimacy.

The Russian Tea Room was one of them, for Karen's highest pleasure.

As usual she sat down at a small table hidden behind a green plant, far from the curiosity of other customers who didn't belong to the VIP list.

"Mrs. Walker… It is a pleasure to see you here. A Martini without olives, I suppose?"

Nodding in a pale smile, Karen intertwined her hands nervously as the maître d' disappeared from her sight.

She hadn't spoken to him. He had only sent back a message, agreeing upon an encounter and only replied by the affirmative when she had given him the direction. She hadn't seen him either since the night they had slept together. The reaction he would have remained until now a complete, anxious mystery.

A book suddenly slid on her table, making her jump of surprise. She looked up and intended a smile but the truth was that she was unable to do so, for a thousand reasons.

"I didn't know that you were into chick lit."

Will sat down and grabbed his copy of The Devil Wears Prada, waving it at Karen playfully. She simply shrugged.

"I am not really… But I needed something light, for once."

The maître d' brought Karen's Martini before turning towards Will.

"Would you like a drink, sir?"

"A vodka on the rocks would be great, thank you."

The man nodded and disappeared again, leaving Karen with a dubitative mock on the lips. She raised her eyebrows at Will, vaguely taken aback.

"I thought you never drank alcohol during your work time."

"I took the afternoon off."

"You shouldn't have to."

Because obviously, she hadn't planned to go anywhere else with him and if she had preferred a restaurant over the intimacy of a personal suite, there was a reason to, an evident one. Will shrugged nonchalantly but within a second his features deepened as he sighed, loudly.

"Karen, I'm sorry. I didn't want… I just thought it would be…"

"The character of Andrea is soporific but Miranda, on the other hand, is very well studied. I felt sorry for her, all along, because nobody was able to see her suffering and Lord knows she was, lonely."

Will didn't protest before her sudden change of subject and played along.

"She reminded me of you, maybe even more in the movie adaptation because her distress is very well emphasized."

"I'm not distressed."

"You know what I mean."

The maître d' came back with Will's vodka then tended them the menus before disappearing again, quietly.

"You shouldn't have told me what you said, that night in the street. I shouldn't have followed you then."

"I don't understand you, Karen. You kissed me by surprise and took me completely aback. We don't rush on people without any reason and that's why I found you back. Because… I don't know, it was all confused… But the truth is that I don't regret any word I said, any thing I did. I never forced you to stay with me."

Karen rolled her eyes, unsure if it was more by exasperation or to prevent some tears from falling down. A silent laugh escaped from her mouth. She shook her head.

"Of course you never forced me to do anything!"

"Then why are you reacting like that?"

"Because… It should have never happened! Damn, Will… Don't you have a consciousness or something? We made a big mistake and, and…"

"What if it weren't a mistake?"

"Oh, are you that stupid? I'm not going to divorce Stanley and get involved into some public relationship with you. This is ridiculous! You can't stand me. I can't stand you. We both know it is not true but this is how people see us and this is how it has to be."

"Who said it didn't have to remain secret?"

Karen took a deep breath and let a few seconds fly away. She locked her eyes with Will's, bit her lower lip and frowned.

"I'm not this kind of woman. I'm sorry."

"Are you in love with Stanley?"

Karen scoffed, offended.

"This is none of your business!"

"You're avoiding an answer…"

"He's important to me."

"But you don't…"

"I love him! Are you satisfied? The bitch I am didn't just marry him for the money but also because I love him."

The maître d' arrived, putting involuntarily an end to the conversation.

"Mrs. Walker, are you ready to order?"

Karen nodded and let the man take her order, then Will's. As he went away, she looked down at the table and shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"I still won't regret anything."

"Me either, Will…"

Her remark made him laugh.

"You are an odd paradox, Karen Walker."

"Yeah… Maybe it is just a shield, like Miranda Priestly."

They both remained silent, knowing perfectly when the truth had got swallowed by the art of lying.


	9. Replay

**Replay****, Ken Grimwood. 1986.**

**_On October, 18th, 1988, Jeff Winston is in his office in Manhattan, listening to his wife on the phone repeating "We need, we need…" Of course, they would need a child, a better house and most of all: to talk, with honesty. But all of a sudden, Jeff dies of a heart attack and wakes up in 1963 in his old college dorm room while he's eighteen years old. Is it a new start or the beginning of an oppressing nightmare?_**

"It is a second chance."

"Yes, I guess so."

She had been reading the authorization over and over for the past hour, her eyes sliding on the words but never managing to remain concentrated on them. She just couldn't believe, didn't want to. As a matter of fact, she didn't feel ready for it.

"Are you going to pick him up at the jail?"

Karen finally abandoned her reading and looked up at Grace. Why did her friend seem to have such enthusiasm when her own feelings were still very vague?

"I don't know. Everything is so sudden, I have to think about it and get it all ready. I… I don't know."

"You are still angry, aren't you?"

"Well, he lied to me and put us in a very delicate situation. But this is how marriage is, sometimes…"

"So it is a new start for you both. That doesn't happen to everyone."

"I know…"

But still, she didn't feel ready.

"Karen, what if you took your afternoon? It is Friday anyway, I can deal with the few hours left."

She agreed even though the last thing she wanted to was coming back home and wait for Stanley's release. She needed to lose herself in the crowd, to have a feeling to disappear and cease to be even only for a couple of hours. Perhaps it would make everything clearer and she would understand, would finally accept this new opportunity to start it all over again.

She stepped out of the building and looked around, aimlessly. What was she going to do, now? Her fingertips brushed her cell phone as she plunged her hand in the pocket of her jacket.

Of course he would agree to see her. He had even probably been told about Stanley's imminent comeback. But she had to stop relying on him so much. Will was a friend, just a friend. Restraining a sigh, she began to walk down the street at a slow pace. A young woman passed next to her, running, obviously late.

Without any particular reason, Karen followed her and took the stairs down to the subway When she arrived on the platform, the woman was there, leaned against a wall, breathless. The loud sound of the train pierced the silence, someone laughed on her right but she didn't pay attention and remained concentrated on the woman.

Then everything speeded up, unfortunately. Within a second the young woman approached the rails and Karen saw her disappear under the train. She turned her head around, panicked. Another witnessed had just screamed, the subway had stopped and everyone was rushing out as if death could catch them up too in a double attempt. Swallowing hard, Karen stepped backwards and took a deep breath of air as she arrived outside.

"Karen, are you alright?"

She looked up and faced Will. He was holding his briefcase and seemed to be heading towards Grace's office.

"What if we all had to get another chance? Would it really be a chance or just a pure nightmare?"

Her questions took Will aback and she let him lead her to a coffee shop at the corner. She grabbed her drink and realized she was shaking.

"She jumped under the train. She was standing next to me and when the subway arrived, she just jumped on the rails…"

His hand pressed hers as he locked his brown eyes with her hazel ones and shook his head.

"Oh God… I'm sorry, Kare. Are you okay?"

"Stanley is released."

"I know."

Tears suddenly fell down on her face, plunging into her coffee and giving it a salty, bitter taste.

"How am I going to be able to face him?"

Will didn't reply to her desperate question and looked down instead. She kept on talking.

"Grace thinks it's a second chance but if it really is, it means some things shouldn't get repeated. But we made so many mistakes, Stanley and I… I can't afford to ruin it all again or to go through any kind of nightmare. I don't want to be that girl who just put an end to her life. Being put on 'replay' is not being fortunate and I don't know what to do anymore."

"You want a divorce?"

Will's question made her laugh, bitterly. Swallowing back her tears, Karen rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. Curiously enough she barely cared about her reaction in public. She was with Will and the mere presence of his friend resulted enough to give her the courage to assume her feelings, even though a bit shyly.

"No… I will never divorce him. It's just that… I went to college, Sarah Lawrence. I graduated but was so broke that I gave up everything and got married instead. Of course I regret it, from times to times, but nobody is fully satisfied of life."

"But if you were offered a second chance, a new beginning, wouldn't you take advantage of it to change some things?"

"Yes, I would. But the circumstances… I would change so many things."

An odd silence wrapped them up uncomfortably. Will cleared his voice.

"And what did you major in?"

"Performing Arts… I wanted to be on Broadway. I ended up at a strip club. It was still dance…"

A pale smile lit up her face. She shrugged, locked her eyes with Will's.

"It's all about meeting people, not always at the right time. And there's no replay for that. "


	10. The Phantom of the Opera

**The Phantom of the Opera,**** Gaston Leroux. 1959.**

**_By an odd coincidence, Christine Daaé gets the leading role at The Opera of Paris and sees her fame reach its apogee very suddenly. The young woman seems fragile though, almost possessed by an invisible strength that prevents her from living openly and freely her love story with Raoul. When she finally confesses her problem to him, Christine affirms that The Angel of Music, the person who gives her singing lessons, doesn't allow her to date Raoul. Before the mysterious identity of this angel, it clearly appears that the phantom of the Opera is everything but a legend._**

It had started when Stanley had come back home, definitely released from the jail for a reason she wasn't sure to understand that much or preferred to ignore. Writing a check was so easy, so quiet.

Escaping from his presence, she had plunged into a bath and closed her eyes to relax. But very soon the sensation had made her heart beat faster. Sliding up her legs, caressing her neck, the warmth of his breath and the softness of his hands seemed to have invaded her whole body unexpectedly in a bitter wave of melancholy.

Will…

He had kissed her lips, brushed her breasts and made her his. Curiously enough, she had just realized it.

It hadn't gone away. From then on the days had passed by controlled by the singular sensation floating over her mind, possessing her heart. Way too respectful Stanley hadn't asked for anything but if there was something that Karen knew it was how nothing never really remained and more or less soon, the situation would change.

She had to do something.

"I'm just like torn apart. There is more. Of course there is more or it would have never crossed my mind. He invaded my thoughts and seems to control everything in a decadent motion that I can't follow properly. And on the other side stands what is supposed to be my references, all my life. But I have been unfaithful. I have lied to him and keep on lying whenever I look into his eyes and pretend to be happy. This is insane. It should have never happened; no matters we might have died for it all along, quietly. After all, our whims don't necessarily have to come true because if they do, there will be nothing left to hope for, to fantasize about. There won't be any regret either, any pointless dilemma. But there I am, lost."

"Karen, you aren't Snow White. There's no need to speak to the mirror like that."

Her hazel eyes got locked with Grace's and for a couple of seconds she wondered how much of her soliloquy her friend had heard. But Grace was smiling playfully so she did as well and abandoned her position in front of the mirror of the office, vaguely reassured.

The day had been quiet, almost boring; no client, no delivery. She had showed up early in order to escape from Stanley and now that the night was falling over Manhattan, Karen was feeling the fatigue of the past hours getting mixed with the blurriness of her thoughts.

"Grace…"

Her friend looked up immediately, questioningly. Sitting further on her chair as if getting some distance seemed appropriate, Karen took a deep breath and frowned. Her eyes were studying Grace's hair absent-mindedly.

"What made you fall for Will in the first place?"

"Just because you think he's boring doesn't mean that we all have to…"

"No honey, I'm serious this time. Why did you fall in love with him?"

Grace abandoned the pen she had been holding and smiled brightly before shrugging.

"I have never been in love with him. I might have thought I was but I was wrong. I understood that with the years, the time passing by. It goes above love, weirdly. It is an exclusive relationship but there are no romantic feelings involved."

"And there will never be?"

"I seriously doubt we will ever try anything like that. This is not us, not at all."

The conversation died in a stifled regret from both parts and Karen excused herself in an incomprehensible murmur before rushing to the bathroom to cry.

The cold water running through her fingers sent shivers down her spine. She bit her lower lip, swallowed back her tears. Grace was talking on the phone. She could hear her in the background.

"Perhaps I just should disappear…"

As an odd realization began to build in her mind, a knock on the door made her jump. She turned around but didn't move forward.

"Karen, I have to go. Will is going to stop by to bring me a new type of contract. Please, don't leave now."

When she finally opened the door, Grace had disappeared and the office was empty. Ten minutes passed by in a heavy silence of doubts, hesitations but just as she had finally decided to go back home, Will appeared at the door and she dropped her coat on her desk, resigned.

"So how is going _The Phantom of the Opera_?"

"Actually I don't know what to think about it. Christine gets on my nerves. Why does she not send to hell The Phantom and go away with Raoul if she's in love with him? She's wasting her time. It doesn't make sense at all."

"I thought you didn't like happy endings."

"Who said that following the love of your life would necessarily mean a happy life? We never know. Love is not a constant, happy feeling. It can hurt pretty bad too."

"Then we all like suffering."

"I miss you."

Her voice pierced the air with a disturbing self-confidence that took both of them aback. But for once Karen didn't lose courage. She made a few steps towards him and locked her eyes with his brown ones.

"I miss you and yet you're always in my mind."

The warmth of his lips on hers made her smile for the very first time in a long while.


	11. The Phantom of the Opera suite

**The Phantom of the Opera****, suite**

"If you could make one wish and just one, what would it be?"

"I would like you to stop running away from me."

His kiss on her bare shoulder sent a shiver down her spine. She shook her head playfully, laughing.

"I'm serious, Will. There's no need to go into one of those big romantic declarations. It doesn't make sense since I'm already in your bed. Just be honest, please."

Leaning up on his elbow, Will took some distance and looked down into Karen's hazel eyes as his fingers were going absent-mindedly on her arm.

"I wish we had met before you got married."

The bitter tone of his voice put an abrupt end to the lightness of the conversation, making Karen break eye-contact with him. She rolled on her back, stared at the ceiling in silence.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, sweetie…"

"My name is Karen, not sweetie."

"I was just being honest with you, as you asked me."

"Then lie. I know you won't have any problem to do so."

She didn't need to apologize for her meaningful comment. Both of them knew that she hadn't meant to hurt him in any way. But still, the spell had got broken for the first time since they had kissed at Grace's office and left for a hotel opposite the street.

"I'm scared."

Karen's confession pierced the air unexpectedly. She sat up in bed, looking by the window to avoid Will's gaze. Her voice had been shaking uncontrollably. Her vision was getting blurry, oppressed by a wave of pain coming from her throat.

"I'm here… I'm here."

Will wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and planted a kiss on her nape before resting his face in the depths of her neck. A tear escaped her control and ran down her cheek, coming to die between her lips.

"I'm not this kind of woman… I have nothing to give you… Speak to me."

Her thoughts were twirling around, getting crazy in her head as they slid out of her mouth to reach the air in a cacophony of distress, a very confusing despair.

"Her name was Emma. We met in the line of a Starbucks in The Village. A woman was ordering what looked like a thousand different drinks and people were losing their patience little by little. For the first ten minutes, I only saw her neck, her shoulders. Her hair was up in a vague bun and she was wearing a purple jacket. And all of a sudden, for whatever reason, she turned around and looked at me. Her green eyes were mesmerizing and I knew right away that I had fallen for the girl standing there before me."

But Will stopped talking and his hands lost hold on Karen's waist.

"What happened next?"

"Nothing… We spoke for the minutes left before us ordering and then we went away, separately."

"Why did you not follow her if you liked her?"

"I didn't like her. I had fallen for her. But there was Grace, and Jack… Then two days later Michael showed up into my life, the one I had been trying to fix for the last decade or so understanding finally that I was all about boys. So Emma didn't match with the scene. Besides it happened way too quickly. And then it was you… You were sitting at your desk, leafing through some magazine. I thought that after Emma, I had turned the page. But there you were."

"Why did you say that you loved me?"

A painting was hung on the wall opposite the bed, an old English countryside landscape. Karen had been observing it blankly, all along Will's story.

"Because I do… I love you."

"How can you be so sure of something like that, with all the things it means? It's just impossible. Besides, I've been so awful with you."

"You are the only one who understood right away who I was. Even Grace is still wrong, after all these years. I need you by my side, Karen. I will always do."

Very slowly Karen turned around and brushed with her fingertips Will's jaw. She locked her eyes with his, frowned.

"Don't expect anything from me. No divorce, no public announcement of a relationship, no marriage, no children… I just don't want to hurt you, please remember that. And if I ever do… I don't want to lose you."

Karen leaned over and captured his lips in a deep, soft kiss. The mere embrace stirred up a whole series of sensations, running from her lower stomach to her warmed up heart. And then she succumbed, lie down in bed again as he slowly passed on top of her with an incomprehensible logic, a sort of natural fluidity.

Her cell phone rang in the background but she didn't get up to grab it. Will's lips on her body were too tempting to ever resist the urge to go on and take some phone call instead. Anyway she would always have time to listen the message left on the answering machine, to take a decision about it and deal with its consequences. Nobody was in a hurry.

She would come back home, plunge in a bath and finish the read of The Phantom of the Opera. She already knew the story by heart but who cared if she wanted to read it one more time? And feel Christine's despair, atrocious love torn apart…

Karen closed her eyes, sighing in satisfaction under her lover's caresses; completely unaware of the fact that, a few blocks up in New York City, Stanley was dying.


	12. Tales of the City

**Tales of the City****, Amistead Maupin. 1978.**

**_At the end of the Seventies, Mary-Ann Singleton decides to leave Cleveland and heads to San Francisco for some vacations. But while there, she fells in love with the city and finally quits her job to move to The West Coast permanently. She lands on Barbary Lane which landlord _ liberal and comprehensive _ shares her house with Mona, Michael and the good-looking Brian who goes from girl to girl. _**

_I have never been in love with you. Not that you have ignored it at some point but I felt like saying it, right now. _

_You are smart, beautiful and bewitching. Nobody can resist you; that's why we got married. I still consider myself as the lucky one in the end, even though we never felt for each other. You chose me. It is a privilege to share a part of a life with you. _

_I want to apologize for everything. I know that I hurt you, made you doubt and ignored your silent despair; the way your eyes sometimes seemed to implore me to save you from whatever was killing you, breaking you into pieces. The truth is that I have never known how to act around you, how to make you feel happy and safe. You are delicate and so fragile that I have never dared and let you ruin yourself instead. I am so sorry. _

_You will be better without me. As a matter of fact, we shouldn't have got married and you would have been fine. No drinks, no pills… We didn't even think about having a family of our own. I guess it makes everything pretty clear. We had understood way before but for some reason none of us backed in retreat. _

_Sometimes I think that I am responsible for your downfall. So I buy you some things even if it is a sad, pitiful compensation. _

_If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't marry you. I would gladly protect you and give you all my friendship but it wouldn't go further. And at last I would be able to see you succeed properly, as you deserve it. _

_When you read this letter, I won't be here anymore. Perhaps it is better like that, for both of us. My life has been a series of failures and I dragged you down in it. You still have time, Karen. So please, live._

_Stanley_

"She is not crying."

Will looked at Grace and shrugged, disarmed before the veracity of his friend's words.

"That doesn't mean she is not sad."

"I know but I still think it is a bit weird."

"At the same time, we are speaking about Karen. When was the last time you saw her cry, guys?"

Jack's intrusion in the conversation brought a disturbing perspicacity that nobody denied. They just hadn't noticed that Karen had been standing behind them for a little while now and that she had heard everything.

The events had speeded up their pace at the announcement of Stanley's heart attack and fatal consequences. The funeral, his will, the children… And this letter Karen had received, by mail, obviously planned a very long time ago. She had read it a thousand times and knew the words by heart now, every single sentence and even the tone that Stanley would have used if he had said it all out loud.

Perhaps she would have been able to actually feel something if there hadn't been any letter. But now, it seemed that her whole body had ceased to work and her conscious had left, as well as all the rest.

She made a few steps towards her friends, stopped to smile at Stanley's sister and finally locked her eyes with Will's questioningly.

_What is going to happen next since none of this was prepared or decided?_

The worst of all was that she didn't even feel guilty. She just wanted to go to bed and spend the rest of the day reading.

"Do you want me to stay?"

She gladly accepted the glass that Will tended her but shook her head at his words.

"No, I'm fine. Don't be worried. Actually, I guess I want to be alone for a while. I'll call you later. I need some time… I need to think about a couple of things."

"Fine…"

His hand brushed her lower back in an invisible motion that got her tensed. She didn't smile, didn't look at him with a secret hunger in the eyes. Everything had been shut down, starting with her heart.

She didn't wait for the last guests to leave the mansion and she headed straight to the library, sat down on the floor by the fireplace. This part of the house had always been quiet, almost like abandoned.

_I owe you everything. _

_Perhaps you have forgotten it but I haven't. I will never do. But you actually saved me; from the club where I was working, from the depths of a dark world I was flirting with. I wouldn't be here today, breathing, if you hadn't been part of my life and decided to marry me._

_I was naïve and you opened my eyes, sometimes with bitterness but this is part of reality. You made me grow up and offered me a lot more than what I had been expecting. _

_Maybe there wasn't love involved, some romantic feeling, but at least you opened your arms to me and let me be a part of your family when you knew that I had lacked it. _

_Your life hasn't been a series of failures, not for me. I can accept the rest but not this part of your confession. You are my guardian angel, the one who made me realize that Manhattan could be dangerously appealing and that I needed to be careful, responsible enough not to suffer from it. _

_And this is thanks to you if I have met them, if my life began to change. You pushed me to find a job, to go out of the manse and 'taste the real world' as you used to say. What if I hadn't listened to you? _

_We both know that I would be dead, on a way or another._

_Thank you for everything Stanley, I will never forget you._

_Your new girl in town, _

_Karen_


	13. Love Letters from 0 to 10

**Love Letters from 0 to 10****, Susie Morgenstern. 1996.**

**_Ernest is ten years old. Ten years old of emptiness: his mother died the day of his birth and his father disappeared. Ten years of boredom: his life with his grandmother, called Precious, has nothing funny: going to school, having a snack, doing his homework, having dinner. No phone, no television. Only a mysterious letter that Ernest's grandfather sent during the war, a letter impossible to read. _**

The waiter brought a coffee to the table in a respectful silence then left with a similar discretion. Karen crossed her legs and grabbed the drink, its heat warming up her hands. Since Stanley's death, she had always felt cold and weak. At the beginning she had thought that she might have got sick or something but the days had passed by and no other symptom had shown up. Perhaps with the loss of her husband, a part of her had gone away too, stealing all the heat.

"It is a beautiful story, full of hope. The way Ernest finds out about life after ten years of silence and nothingness is really touching."

Her comment sounded ridiculous to her but the last events had broken a yet very fragile new routine and having to face Will back all of a sudden resulted tough if not odd. She had preferred to book a table over a room, had sent him the direction through a text message and he had chosen the book, giving her all the information via his cell phone as well. They hadn't spoken since the funeral, perhaps vaguely led by a sentiment of guilt; something unforgivable.

"I like Victory, her temper. She has this innocence that only children can have and yet she is very responsible, the leader Ernest needed to open to life."

_Why did you put your hand on my back at the funeral? I didn't ask you to be protective. I don't want you to be because you are just a friend; with benefits. It might be sad but let's face it: it's the truth. _

"I wonder how you feel when you receive all these letters, so suddenly. His father actually wrote to Ernest every single day of his life which means during ten years but he never found the courage to send them until Ernest makes the first step and… I don't know. I think it is disturbing, extremely disturbing."

"Would you like to get a letter per day from someone close to you?"

Immediately Will's question found a repercussion in Stanley's letter and Karen looked down, shrugging.

"I'm not sure. Sometimes I think that my invisible family is way better than a suffocating one and being alone finally gets another perspective."

"But what do you think the other times?"

"I don't think. I envy you. Your parents might be a little dysfunctional but you still have a home where all your childhood memories are kept carefully, preciously. I have been left with absolutely nothing. It's not always easy."

"Why don't you try to get your own family, your own children?"

"I told you no babies, Will."

"I wasn't necessarily speaking about me. You have been married several times in the past and… Well, you know."

His lack of courage before the idea to finish his sentence made her smile with bitterness. He didn't dare. They never did when the conversation became too intimate. Perhaps Will wasn't so different from the others as she had thought at some point. She didn't let disappointment win over the rest and sighed with melancholy.

"I don't want to have to write a letter per day to my child to excuse my behavior, emphasizing what a bad influence I am for him or her."

"You would be an amazing mother, Karen. And you know it."

"Could we just speak about literature? Why does it always have to be about me? Why do our conversations always end up focalizing on me? I don't need a therapy."

"I'm sorry."

She was the one who got angry but yet he was apologizing. Karen shook her head, turning down his words since they didn't make sense. She had wanted so much their encounter to be perfect, to go smoothly and even maybe with some tenderness. But she kept on being harsh, cold and directive.

"I'm ruining everything. This is not what I had planned in the first place. If you want to leave, I will understand. Don't be worried. I'm not a very good company today. I should have accepted Jack's suggestion to go for some shopping, something lighter. Obviously we should have postponed our…"

Her apologies got suspended by a wave of surprise as she felt Will's hand over hers. His fingers were soft, warm. His thumb caressed the back of her hand but she hurriedly looked for an escape to his eyes.

"You've gone through a lot, Karen. Don't blame yourself."

"I hate when you're like that. Can't you just say what a bitch I am, as usual? I miss our little arguments. It's not the same anymore and I don't like it."

"Is it your way to tell me it's over?"

"Oh no, don't tell me you're going to throw a fit now…"

"I'm not. I just want honesty."

"Then I don't know! I don't know anything anymore and if you don't like it well too bad because it's how it is. Be happy. Wait no… Fuck you, Will!"

Growing in frustration and exasperation she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the room, leaving a perplexed if not resigned Will behind. Her driver wasn't in the street waiting but she didn't even look around to hail a cab, simply kept on walking furiously towards the nonsense of her pitiful life.

At least Ernest only had had to turn ten before starting to enjoy the world. For her part, she was going to be forty and yet her life remained empty.


	14. Psychology for Dummies

**Psychology for Dummies****, Dr A. Cash, 2002  
**

**___Psychology For Dummies_ is a fun, user-friendly guide to the basics of human behavior and mental processes. In plain English and using lots of everyday examples, psychologist Dr. Adam Cash cuts through the jargon to explain what psychology is all about and what it tells us about why we do the things we do. **

"The brain is a net of…"

"I know what it is, how it works."

The doctor nodded politely and checked the form filled by a nurse previously.

"When have you been diagnosed Mrs. Walker?"

""At the age of four so as you can guess, I had enough time to get accustomed to it. I know what to do, and when. It is just that I need to change my current medicine for something stronger because it is not helping anymore."

"Have you thought about therapy?"

"That doesn't cure what I have."

"Indeed, but it can help you to accept the medicine you are taking right now. The stronger the dose is, the more…"

"Addicted I grow. Yes, I know. Listen, I will think about going into some therapy but for the moment I only need a new prescription. I don't want to collapse on the floor and make a fuss in the middle of Madison Avenue."

Ten minutes later Karen stepped out of the building, holding tightly the paper delivered by the scientist. A smile of victory had slid along her lips and for anyone who would have crossed her in the street she could have been mistaken for a woman who would have just received excellent news like the confirmation of a so-long waited pregnancy. But she hadn't at all. Everything was getting worse and she knew it.

She turned on her right and waved at Jack waiting in front of Barney's.

_I need something lighter, like a shopping afternoon with Jack._

The words she had exchanged with Will the last time they had seen each other hit her mind suddenly and slowed down her pace a little, unexpectedly. She kept on smiling though; mainly because people didn't care that much about her privacy and she didn't have to bother them with it. Behind a smile you could hide a lot of things.

"I thought you would never make it!"

"Sorry poodle… The neurologist wouldn't give me the damn prescription."

"What were you doing at a neurologist's office?"

If Jack hadn't mentioned it, she wouldn't have noticed her mistake, how the truth had slip through her lips within a second under a troubling spell. She swallowed hard, let some seconds fly away.

"Oh, did I say neurologist? I meant gynecologist, of course!"

Jack's blue eyes scrutinized her for a little while obviously curious before her odd reply. But in a sigh of satisfaction, he finally entered the department store and gave up Karen's lie. She followed him carefully.

"Oh by the way, are you still mad at Will?"

"What are you talking about, honey?"

"Well… You barely spoke to each other of the week so clearly enough you have argued again and some tension has taken possession of your little couple."

Karen looked down to hide her red cheeks before Jack's ironical and yet innocent remark. She shrugged, cleared her voice nervously. The afternoon was supposed to be relaxing, why did her friend keep on talking about the only person she would have die to forget within a second?

"Why are you asking me that, anyway?"

"Because the guy is desperate… He needs some date for his cousin's wedding and Grace can't go."

"He knows plenty of women, that you can believe me."

"Yes but they are all married…"

"And I am not, perhaps?"

Her question hurt Jack a lot more than it should have and before her friend's obvious discomfort for having made a mistake, Karen felt bad. She might have meant it in the first place but now that she was facing the result of her own cruelty over Jack, it didn't sound as satisfying as she had planned.

"He cares about you, Karen; a lot more than what you think. He's your friend…"

"But he hasn't asked me anything. That probably says a lot about his intentions towards me."

"Don't tell me you don't know him yet, after all these years…"

"I do and that's why I tell you that if he hasn't asked me to accompany him, it's because I'm not part of his plans for this wedding."

Jack didn't insist but the bitter conversation ruined the rest of the day and they went back to their respective places in a lack of effusion, vaguely sad.

If someone hadn't rushed out of the store unexpectedly, right in front of her and forcing her to stop in the middle of the street, Karen wouldn't have come in, wouldn't have wandered through the shelves and wouldn't have bought a copy of the book as the neurologist's words had sounded loudly in her head over and over.

_Have you thought about a therapy?_

She didn't know the slightest thing about psychology, wasn't very interesting either if not scared of what it meant. By an act of cowardice she tended to think that it was easier and safer to ignore the weight of past injuries but for quite a while, it seemed that all her stifled traumas were rushing back to her and everything was going so wrong; like with Will.

Maybe it was time to accept a couple of things.


	15. Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

**Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde****, Robert Louis Stevenson. 1886.**

**_It is about a London_****_ lawyer who investigates strange occurrences between his old friend, Dr Henry Jekyll_****_ and the misanthropic_****_ Mr Hyde. The work is known for its vivid portrayal of a split personality_****_, split in the sense that within the same person there is both an apparently good and an evil personality each being quite distinct from the other. The novella's impact is such that it has become a part of the language, with the phrase "Jekyll and Hyde" coming to mean a person who is vastly different in moral character from one situation to the next._**

_Can we meet for a little while? I need to talk to you._

She had read the message just once but had repeated it in her head over and over until the words had begun to ache for knowing them by heart. Some people would have said that it had been weakness, others would have spoken of fate and if she had had to choose one of both categories, she would have preferred to remain quiet because she had absolutely no idea at all. One way or another, she still had said yes to Will.

In a rush she had grabbed a knee-length black dress and put it on. She looked conservative in it if not just gloomy, lifeless. But since she had lacked time, she hadn't paid attention to it and run outside instead, pacing down Fifth Avenue on a boiling Saturday afternoon.

A week had passed by since Jack had mentioned this wedding and even though she pretended not to care about it, she had secretly hoped every single day that Will would give her a desperate call to implore her presence by his side at the ceremony.

But he hadn't and she hadn't heard anyone talk about the event anymore. Until the text message she had received in the morning from him and all of a sudden, Karen's hope had started shining again, quietly.

_I'm not in love with him, I'm not in love with him, I'm not in love with him, I'm not in love with him. He's nice, smart and good-looking but we are just friends; friends with benefits._

She pushed the door of the coffee shop and let her mantra behind as she saw him sat down at a table, plunged in the read of The New York Times, a coffee by his side. Karen went to the counter, ordered her own drink and turning around, took a deep breath before heading towards Will.

Her heart was beating too fast, way too fast. Had she taken her pills?

"Hello…"

Will finally abandoned his newspapers and smiled at her as she sat down in front of him with a palpable awkwardness. If they hadn't slept together at some point, never crossed the limits of their friendship, the discomfort would have never existed and they would both be happy, a lot more than what they currently pretended to be.

In a perfect world, he would have said that he was sorry, that he understood her reaction even if it still sounded incomprehensible to herself and that he would wait, would always be here if she ever felt like going back to him. Perhaps they would even have kissed, shared a couple of smiles and a thousand silent promises. Time would have taken them away and there would have been no worries, no wonders anymore.

"What would you like to do with Walker Inc.?"

The question pierced her heart icily but she kept on smiling, almost peacefully. Obviously the perfect world she had fantasized about had nothing to do with reality.

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet, why? Do you have any suggestion?"

Sometimes her own ability to keep control over her feelings frightened her to a point that brought sadness to her perception of the scene. Like a sort of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, her personality seemed duplicated, dangerously. Maybe her diagnostic had been wrong _ the neurologist would have mistaken her file with someone else's and that was why the medicine she had been taking for so long didn't seem to have any effect on her _ and she actually was schizophrenic.

"Well we can sell it. That would bring you a lot of money, not that you are really in need but still. Or if you're interested, you can remain at the head of the company and keep on torturing your employees for the rest of your life."

The smile that accompanied his last comment warmed up her heart and she laughed heartedly.

"I've never wanted to be a businesswoman but I know I can handle it."

"You can handle anything, Karen."

_Except you, except myself…_

She nodded at Will's remark but didn't reply.

"Well, I have to go now. Sorry, I don't have a lot of time but plenty of things to do before tonight. By the way, do you come over for dinner? You know it's not the same without you."

Will straightened up on his chair and began to clean the place, ready to go. Before the abruptness of his leaving, Karen swallowed hard and vaguely nodded.

"Oh yes, sure! I will be there. Anyway, I also have a very busy day. A lot of employees to torture and all, you know."

She stood up before him and turned around, heading to the door in a sad motion.

"Karen!"

She stopped and turned around. Her heart was beating even faster and her hands were shaking. She needed to calm down immediately. There was no need to be rushed to the hospital for a fit.

"By the way, it's your turn. Which novel do you choose for our book club?"

New disappointment but nonetheless brightened by the fact he hadn't turned the page completely over their encounters as well as their friendship.

"How about Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"

_I guess it's rather appropriate right now._

Will nodded and stood up, putting on his jacket. She headed to the counter and gave back her mug.

A loud crash of broken glass on the floor pierced the peaceful atmosphere of the coffee shop. Some people screamed, obviously surprised by the awkward gesture of some customer. Plunged in the read of a text message on his BlackBerry, Will didn't pay attention to the scene and didn't look up.

Until someone grabbed him by the arm and pointed out at the counter of the shop where Karen was lying on the floor.

"Your friend is convulsing!"


	16. The End of the Affair

**The End of The Affair****, Graham Greene. 1951.**

**_Set in London_****_ during and just after World War II_****_, the novel examines the obsessions_****_, jealousy_****_ and discernments within the relationships between three central characters: writer Maurice Bendrix; Sarah Miles; and her husband, civil servant Henry Miles. Graham Greene's own affair with Lady Catherine Walston played into the basis for The End of the Affair. The British edition of the novel is dedicated to "C" while the American version is made out to "Catherine." Greene's own house at 14 Clapham Common Northside_****_ was bombed during The Blitz_****_._**

"They say it might have been caused by a recent shock, probably Stanley's death."

"I didn't know she was epileptic."

"Nobody knew, Jack. Nobody knew."

Grace closed her eyes and leaned her head backwards against the cold wall for the thousandth time. The corridor of the hospital had turned quiet, almost suddenly. Not even the beeps of the machines could reach them, stifled by the thick doors of the rooms.

"Nobody knew though I thought she told me everything, that we had no secret for each other. Obviously she lied to me and put her life in danger for absolutely no reason. It's so ridiculous!"

The remark made Grace smile, softly. Shrugging, she turned her head around and looked at her friend sat by her side on an uncomfortable plastic chair.

"It's Karen…"

She opened her eyes but the room she was in remained fuzzy, like plunged in an approximative dark. A form was standing by her side though. She just couldn't picture the person out entirely. She frowned, passed a hand on her forehead.

"Hey, you're awake?"

His voice went straight to her heart but instead of reassuring her, it stirred up a wave of anxiety. She looked down, betrayed by the beeps of the machines as her heart speeded up its pace.

Will grabbed her hand.

"Karen, are you okay or you want me to call a nurse? Is a new fit coming?"

"I never have two fits in a row."

Her voice was hoarse and her throat dry. It made her cough, duplicating atrociously her latent headache.

"You collapsed at the coffee shop. Do you remember it?"

She shook her head but kept on staring at the sheets she could see now perfectly well. Perhaps remaining in the fog wouldn't have been such a bad idea.

Before her silence, Will pressed her hand and leaned over to come closer to her. A zillion questions were rushing to her mind but she didn't dare to ask the slightest of them, just in case. So she sighed absent-mindedly.

"Karen, why did you never tell us that you were epileptic? You scared the hell out of me when I saw you convulsing on the floor."

But the only reply Will got resulted to be the back of her head as she turned her face on the opposite side to face the wall quietly.

"Epilepsy isn't shameful, Kare… It's not your fault, besides."

"But do you really think I wanted my friends to visit me while in a hospital bed? I don't need any kind of pity. I've been coping with it since forever. It's no big deal."

"I still thought I was losing you."

"Don't be so dramatic."

"And you don't be so distant with me, so cold."

"I just don't like the way you're being so protective with me. You know I didn't… I didn't go towards you for that."

A louder beep came out from one of the machines and they both stayed silent for a while, wondering if it would set off an alert for the medical staff. But nobody came; nobody pushed the door to ask for anything. Sometimes it seemed that life could be appropriate and full of chance.

"I don't want you to be in love with me, Karen. I don't want you to be by my side for the rest of my life, to be my wife… When I think about us as a whole, I can barely picture out what we could do in the next couple of days. We do have a future though, as we have a past and a present. You asked me to renounce to some things but the truth is that all those principles you wanted to escape from had never crossed my mind. I care about you. I love you but…"

"Is this your way to tell me it's over?"

The conversation had a bitter taste of déjà-vu except that this time, the roles had been reversed.

"Do you want to put an end to it?"

When her hazel eyes found his brown ones, Karen only found an empty depth of doubts in the mirror of his gaze; some sincere incertitude that made it all unbalanced. She swallowed hard, vaguely closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No…"

_But I don't know what I want. I don't know what we have, now. Stanley is dead so is this still considered as an affair? We barely slept together twice. It would be so easy to call it a mistake. _

"Why don't you want to?"

Will's question took her completely aback.

"I like being with you. I like spending some time with you. And just you…"

_Perhaps there is never really an end to any kind of affair._

Yes, perhaps like Maurice Bendrix and Sarah Miles, their story would never really come to an end defined by something else than death.


	17. The Lover

**The Lover****, Marguerite Duras. 1984.**

**_In 1929, a 15 year old nameless girl is travelling by ferry across the Mekong Delta_****_, returning from a holiday at her family home in the town of Sa Đéc, to her boarding school_****_ in Saigon_****_. She attracts the attention of a 27 year old son of a Chinese business magnate, a young man of wealth and heir to a fortune. He strikes up a conversation with the girl; she accepts a ride back to town in his chauffeured limousine._**

She couldn't help but smile. Whenever his lips _ his hands _ made contact with her body, it seemed to light up her whole face as a veil of warmth spread over her mind.

She loved his kisses, the way they brushed her skin with delicacy before taking possession of her in a complete abandon. There was something personal about it, something unique she couldn't resist.

His lips caressed her shoulder and went up her ear. His breath was hot against her flesh, making her shiver.

"I missed your earlobes."

The unexpected, murmured remark made her burst out laughing. Grabbing him by the neck, Karen locked her eyes with Will's and smiled brightly. She was genuinely happy, as ridiculous as it could sound. And light, she felt so light.

"Don't tell me they are the sexiest part of my body. I could take it pretty bad."

"Your hair is definitely better ranked."

Karen scoffed, more surprised than anything else. Her fingers went through her ebony hair absent-mindedly as she leaned up on her elbow. The sun pierced by the window at this exact moment, she frowned.

"My hair turns you on? That's a premiere."

"What can I say? I love the way they curl on your shoulders, how they follow with a peaceful fluidity the least of your movements. They're sensual, feminine and sexy. They give you a lot of charm."

"You don't like my breasts?"

The vaguely anxious tone in her voice made Will laugh lightly. His leg came to rest over hers as his hand slid on her waist, getting them both closer.

"Of course I do but I prefer your hair and your face."

Karen's perplexity let a few seconds pass by and she finally shrugged, still dubitative.

"Well… You are really not like all the other men."

"And I take it as a compliment."

A car passed in the street below and honked. Instinctively Karen looked by the window but only came to face the leaves of a tree. She couldn't see anything more from the bed she was lying in.

"I'm going to sell the manse."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes… I'm going to move here. Stanley used to say that we needed a big place, that it was the key of success to any marriage. But I always had a thing for this apartment. From all the ones he owned, this one seems to have something more, a sort of peaceful aura that makes me feel at home."

She had said that staring at the ceiling, her eyes wandering aimlessly from right to left in perpetual waves of randomness. But she had been honest.

Suddenly, Karen rolled on her side and grabbed her purse on the floor. She took a pack of cigarettes out of it and lit one.

"Don't smoke."

Will's order obviously resulted entertaining since she smirked at him, barely restraining a laugh of incredulity.

"Excuse me?"

Nobody ever told her what she was supposed to do. And that included Will as well, no matter their degree of intimacy. Rolling on his back Will abandoned the fight and sighed. From the corner of her eyes, she observed him in silence. He was very good-looking, a well-shaped body, healthy. He didn't smoke, barely drank… Obviously he took care of himself carefully.

"I never slept with someone younger than me. You're the first one."

Her confession brought a soft smile to Will's lips. Rolling on his side, he planted a kiss on her bare shoulder and caressed her arm.

"We men have a thing for experienced women…"

"And we women think older men are so more protective, so more secure…"

The bitterness of her voice didn't pass unnoticed but she didn't let enough time to Will to reply or ask for an explanation to her odd comment. Playing with the smoke of her cigarette, she turned her head around and looked at him properly.

"I feel like I'm reliving the story of The Lover except that the roles have been reversed. And minus the exotic character of Saigon, that is."

"Well, I'm not sure there are so many years between us. I mean, how old are you?"

Karen opened her mouth to reply but stopped in extremis and let a light laugh escape instead. She shrugged.

"Who cares? We still both know that I'm older than you."

Will didn't reply and abandoned the contemplation of her face to wander through the nightstand.

"It's six o'clock, Karen."

"Oh… Thank you."

She got up and went to the bathroom quietly. The sound of a glass making contact with the countertop pierced in the background. She came back slowly but something rang in her bag.

"Sorry… It's an alert so that I don't forget to take my medicine."

Her voice was so low that her words were almost inaudible, betraying thus an obvious discomfort. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, she turned down the alarm of her cell phone but remained still, turning her back at Will.

"Did Stanley know about your epilepsy?"

His hand caressed her back, following down her spine. She looked down and turned her head halfway, staring at her own hand.

"No… But maybe it was better like that."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I hate when people care and get attached…"

People would have sworn that she was talkative and extravagant but sometimes Karen just wanted to be alone and silent. It could come up suddenly, unexpectedly, when a thousand wonders invaded her mind in a black harmony. She swallowed hard and cleared her voice.

"I guess you should go now."


	18. My Life

**My life****, Isadora Duncan. 1927.**

**_This autobiography covers the life of Isadora Duncan (1877-1927), whose innovative modern dance and lifestyle captivated the cultural scenes of America, Europe and Russia. Important events and issues explored range from her childhood love of classical music and poetry to the deaths of her children_**.

The green landscape of New England speeded past in front of her eyes as she leaned against the window of the car and let the colors rock her peacefully. He had finally asked her to accompany him to the wedding, with some falsely neglected tone of voice so that she didn't come to think that her presence by his side was more than needed. She hadn't smiled, only shrugged and nodded but the beats of her heart had betrayed her hidden satisfaction to finally be invited.

"How am I supposed to act around your family? I mean, your parents and your brothers know who I am and what your preferences are…"

The journey had been extremely quiet until now; almost uncomfortable as if the situation had been forced and couldn't sound right no matter how hard they would try. Karen's question obviously bothered Will who moved nervously on his seat and cleared his voice as if to win some time. He frowned but remained concentrated on the road.

"They don't know that much about me."

"But you still told them that you were gay and even though it's not quite true, they have no idea about that part."

"Just be yourself, then. Act as if we were in New York, as if we were friends."

"Are we sharing a room?"

A manor appeared behind weeping-willows, an old Victorian one. It didn't lack charm, on the contrary. All of a sudden it seemed they had gone back in time and landed in another century.

"Actually I guess so but since my parents think I prefer men and know you are a very good friend, this is not a problem at all. The others will imagine you're my date. And you are, aren't you?"

"What do you prefer, Will, men or women?"

Wherever she would have asked him this question, it would have sounded inappropriate if not pointless at all. Why should he have to choose, anyway? Why should he have a preference over one of both genders? It was reductive and uninteresting, blank.

"It looks like we arrived just in time for a cup of coffee."

She didn't blame his absence of reply and stepped out of the car as a young man walked frankly towards Will, a cup of coffee in hand. They looked like each other a lot, the same graceful features.

"Karen, this is my cousin Thomas."

She smiled at him.

….

Their bedroom was nice, well-furnished and overlooking a park. In other circumstances, Karen would have found the place extremely romantic but as much as she had secretly dreamed to finally be a part of this wedding, it didn't sound right or fair and an odd feeling kept on weighing on her heart latently.

"Which side of the bed do you prefer?"

She shrugged, balancing her feet in the air as Will stepped in the bathroom to take a shower.

"I don't really mind."

That was their problem. They pretended to be close but yet they knew absolutely nothing of each other's habits. They had never talked about this kind of things, barely cared as a matter of fact. All they did was having sex and speak about general topics, likes and dislikes over common ideas. They never went into their real intimacy. They didn't dare.

"Will… I'm going to the library to read for a while since we have time before the dinner. I saw there was a fireplace and, well… I will come back here to get ready, don't be worried."

Karen grabbed her book and left the room then took the stairs down. Curiously enough it seemed that every single person had backed in retreat to their respective bedroom to find some peace before the evening and all the guests she had been introduced to an hour earlier had suddenly vanished from the manor. Walking slowly through an empty corridor, the odd feeling to be the wandering soul of a ghost invaded her mind quietly.

She finally found the door of the library after a few minutes of research. The room was empty but the fireplace was on. Settling her preference over an old English armchair, Karen crossed her legs under her and sat down, plunging immediately in her read. She could have stayed in the bedroom but Will's presence would have disturbed her, intimidated her. For some reason she needed to be alone while reading as if it were a personal affair and nobody else had to witness it.

"I knew that you would be coming."

A long moment had probably flown away because when she looked up to face her interlocutor, Karen realized that the light of the day had darkened outside. Standing on the doorframe Marilyn smiled at her before making a few steps in, her arms crossed on her chest.

"I knew that my son would choose you."

"Grace couldn't make it."

"We both know what I mean… What are you reading?"

Marilyn's comment took Karen slightly aback but she still showed her the book she was holding, by pure politeness. She had never had anything against Will's mother, on the contrary, but all of a sudden it seemed the perspective had changed unless it was just the way Marilyn kept on staring at her.

"Hmm… I didn't know you loved dance."

Karen closed the book and put it down by her side, nodding.

"I do. Besides Isadora Duncan has always fascinated me…"

"She had such a tragic life."

"But she was talented and unique. Not that it brings balance but still, at least she had something."

"I don't know how she could keep on living after the loss of her children. I wouldn't be able to. There is nothing more terrible for a mother than to attend her own children's funeral."

Karen looked down, not knowing what to reply. Speaking about motherhood had never been easy to her and it made her feel uncomfortable if not completely disarmed. But Marilyn didn't seem to take it bad and she kept on talking.

"Will has always been different… Since the very beginning I knew that he wouldn't be like the others, like his brothers. He had this something that would keep him apart and when he finally announced his sexual preferences, he seemed so relieved that I didn't insist. But clearly enough I knew that he was attracted by women too. And then he introduced you… Such a long time ago! He has always had a thing for you. I'm not surprised you ended up in each other's arms."

"What are you talking about?"

Karen blushed before her own, ridiculous intervention. It was pitiful and her blank voice had betrayed her so loudly that the silence that followed seemed to duplicate the sound of her hypocrisy.

Marilyn smiled softly.

"My husband might have been cheating on me for a lot of years now but that doesn't mean I don't know anything about love and how things work. How many times have you been married?"

"Three times…"

"Then you probably know what I'm talking about and how whatever you're living with my son now has nothing to do with the other times. Don't hurt him, please. This is all what I ask. As I just told you, I couldn't bare to lose my child."


	19. My life, suite

**Suite**

The evening had flown away with the perfection of some dizzy sensation. By Will's side Karen had felt fine, serene. She had spoken with a large part of his family, warmed up under his touch whenever his hand had made contact with her lower back, her leg. And then there were his eyes, reassuring and deep, sweet. The hours had passed by and before she had realized it, they had found themselves in their bedroom again for what would be the very first night they would spend together entirely.

It had crossed her mind in the stairs when Will had grabbed her hand and pressed it tight, in silence. Until now they had only slept together during the day then flown away to their respective lives within an hour, as if their encounters belonged more to a mere detail than to anything else. Perhaps it was reductive but weren't they involved in an affair? And as long as she knew, the fugacity of the moment distinguished it all from any kind of relationship.

But there she was now, sat in bed waiting for him; anxiously.

They kept on talking randomly until he turned the lights off and she didn't know what to do. Will wasn't moving next to hers. Was he waiting something from her? She swallowed hard and sighed in silence. Of course he did since their conversations always led to the same ending.

She made love to him a bit forcefully at the beginning but since he didn't seem to reject her quiet suggestion, she relaxed and enjoyed it even though at the end, a bitter taste of artificiality remained over her mind as she fell asleep by his side.

A light caress on her bare shoulder woke her up the next morning. Very slowly, she opened her eyes and came to face him. He hadn't got up yet, hadn't shaved. It was the first time she saw him like that, lying by her side. The sensation it left was odd, new but warm.

"Good morning…"

Within a second Karen jumped out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door properly. The sudden movement had speeded up her heartbeats and she was vaguely shaking. She wasn't a morning person so waking up so quickly was a bit disturbing.

"Karen, are you alright? Do you feel sick?"

"No, I'm fine."

But she wasn't at all. She heard him get up in the background and so she stepped in the shower, turning the water on. The warm drops were soft on her face, relaxing.

Will entered the bathroom and turned towards her. She could make out his figure through the glass, in a blurry way that seemed to have stolen all the important details of his body like his features, the expression on his face.

"Why did you rush out of bed like that?"

But she didn't reply and let his exasperation grow furiously until he called her name for the second time and she poked her head out, frowning.

"I wasn't wearing any makeup!"

Will rolled his eyes.

....

The ceremony resulted touching and very soon Karen found back the references she had appreciated so much the day before. It seemed that whenever she didn't have to face Will alone, things sounded easier and owned a bit of logic that tended to reassure her. She spent some time talking with his cousin, smiling shyly at Marilyn as both women crossed each other during the lunch.

But one more time a weight began to oppress her as they came back to their bedroom around five. The evening reception wouldn't start before two hours and all the guests seemed to have decided to take advantage of the break to enjoy the quietness of their respective rooms.

They had to talk, as they used to. But as soon as they came in, Will sat down on the bed and sighed heavily, his eyes closed. For a couple of seconds Karen remained still, observing him a bit disarmed as if waiting for his next move.

Troubled, she finally took off her stilettos and joined him on the bed then straddled him, planting light kisses on his neck. His firm grip on her arms took her aback. She gasped at his gesture. Will shook his head.

"What are you doing, Karen?"

She couldn't restrain a nervous laugh but it came to die in the artificiality of all the rest.

"Well, isn't it obvious?"

"You're not a hooker."

"You don't want to have sex?"

Her incredulity pierced the silence of the room as her blank voice resounded loud. The effect of his words had been worse than a cold shower. She swallowed hard and looked at her lap while sitting slowly next to him. That was unexpected. It had never happened before, to be more exact, with anyone. And for some reason, she felt hurt somehow.

"We don't need to have sex as soon as we stop talking."

Now she felt stupid and ridiculous if not completely pointless.

"Then what are we supposed to do? It's too early to get ready for dinner and…"

"We can just cuddle, have a rest, I don't know... I'd like to check a case."

"Okay, I go down to the library."

"You can stay."

He had grabbed her wrist as she had begun to turn around to pick up the book resting on her nightstand.

"I'm going to bother you when all you want is a moment to work. I should leave you alone."

"I would appreciate if you stayed as a matter of fact. Just sit by my side and… I don't know. Read, listen to some music."

_Like a real couple…_

He didn't need to complete his sentence; she did it for him in her head and swallowed hard as a shiver ran down her spine.

A bit reluctantly, she grabbed her novel and settled against him as he passed an arm around her and focalized on a series of papers, various contracts. She would have wanted nothing more than to escape everything to plunge in Isadora Duncan's life, no matter how sad it might have been. But the words kept on dancing in front of her eyes while she wondered why it cost her so much to act around Will like that; to accept the image of the couple they were with calm.


	20. My Life, suite 2

**Suite**

"Karen… It's time to get ready."

Very slowly Karen opened her eyes and realized that she had fallen asleep against him, probably rocked by the regular movements of his chest and the peaceful silence of the room. Perhaps the awkwardness she had kept on feeling was pure appearances at the end.

"I'm sorry to wake you up."

Sitting up on the bed, she swept away Will's apologies with a vague gesture of her hand. She grabbed her cell phone, checked the screen: 6.30pm.

They got ready in silence, crossing each other through soft smiles and subtle gazes that didn't say that much. Sometimes she felt like stopping it all and grab his wrist to yell at him that something was missing; that it sounded wrong and she didn't know why. But then her courage seemed to fly away and before she had time to react, the occasion was missed and they were still trapped in the incomprehension of whatever was happening.

…

She wouldn't have been able to say if they had made a spectacular entrance in the dining-room or not because as soon as they had stepped in, she had got lost in a thousand wonders that had been weighing on her chest with oppressive manners. She wished she could have called Jack or Grace to confess her feelings but for the very first time the dark side of her secret affair with Will was hitting her hard in the face and she found herself alone to deal with its intricate nets.

Glass of Champagne in hand, Karen leaned against a wall and scanned the room absent-mindedly. Will had stopped to talk with some relative and she had preferred to go on, to leave him alone for a while. They weren't stuck to each other anyway.

"You look tired, are you okay?"

She looked up and stared at Marilyn for a few seconds before finally shrugging in a sort of abdication.

"I think you were wrong about Will and I."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure we're made for each other. You see, when we are together and there is no limit of time or any kind of obstacle like in Manhattan, everything is weird as if it weren't working out."

"But as soon as you're far from him, you feel like you're losing your time, right?"

Karen didn't need to reply. She smiled instead and shrugged as if intimated by the veracity of Marilyn's words. From the fireplace Will looked at her. He seemed curious but glad to see her next to his mother.

"If I were in love, I wouldn't be so uncomfortable as soon as I find myself alone with him."

"And why do you think you feel that way?"

Actually she had been thinking about it for the last couple of hours, even probably dreamed about it in her sudden, unexpected sleep. The words resounded loud in her confused mind but all they managed to do was bump into each other pointlessly, reducing her doubts to an ocean of incomprehensible feelings.

"I have no idea."

"Oh yes, you do. But you don't dare to accept it."

And Marilyn left as Will came back to her; giving an odd synchronization to the scene. His hand slid on her lower back and he planted a kiss on her temple. The gesture made her blush if not speed up her heartbeats but wasn't she supposed to date him for the rest of the guests? Very slowly Karen approached her head from his shoulder and she turned around to face him. He looked relaxed, serene. She bit her lower lip and forced the words out in a murmur of insecure confession.

"You know how Isadora Duncan ruined her life, how she missed everything out?"

He nodded. She went on.

"I don't want to be like that, a sort of failure that death will sweep away one day without anyone noticing it. I don't want to lose you and yet I'm scared that our balance has already been broken. I hate changes, Will. I never knew how to deal with them properly and… And…"

At this point Karen had lost all her references and she could feel the floor getting fluid under her feet, unstable. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the wave of panic that had spread over her mind latently.

"The dinner's ready."

And one more time her courage vanished.

…

"I know I am disappointing you. I don't do it on purpose, I swear. It's just that I have never been comfortable with this kind of face-to-face."

The room wasn't spinning around but yet everything seemed to have slowed down, turned into cotton and got fuzzy.

She had kept on drinking to forget her failures. The classic abandon had only resulted frustrating but she hadn't been able to stop. At least behind a glass of Whisky the world sounded less cold, less realistic.

She leaned over but lost her balance and almost fell on the mattress of their bed, no matter she had sat down on it previously to avoid any kind of injury. Her body was heavy and her mouth dry but as long as she kept on staring at Will, she knew it would be alright.

"Sometimes I wonder why you want to be with me, why you want me to stay by your side. I don't know how to play the perfect couple… I've never been good at it. And there's all the rest. Grace, Jack… I… You see, it might be all fuzzy right now but I still know a couple of things, like how you're important to me. You'd wish nothing more but me to say the words as you did that night in the street but I'm way too coward Will. I'm sorry."

"You need to sleep, Karen."

She let him drag her under the blanket, turn the lights off. And when they found themselves in the dark, in each other's arms, she let everything go in a long sigh.

"No, I need to assume my feelings."


	21. The little Prince

**The little Prince****, Antoine de Saint Exupéry. 1943.**

**_The narrator, an airplane pilot, crashes in The Sahara desert. The crash badly damages his airplane and leaves the narrator with very little food or water. As he is worrying over his predicament, he is approached by the little prince, a very serious little blond boy who asks the narrator to draw him a sheep. The narrator obliges, and the two become friends. Though ostensibly a children's book, The little Prince makes several profound and idealistic observations about life and human nature._**

She had awoken for at least ten minutes but for once Karen didn't feel like moving. The day might have already begun but she didn't care that much, rocked as she was by the regularity of his breath caressing her hair softly.

She took a deep breath and plunged carefully a bit more in the depths of his neck. She had to let him believe that she was still asleep, that her subconscious was talking for her and so she wasn't the one to blame for such gesture of affection.

Of course it was ridiculous to be ashamed of showing tenderness but she had always been like that, for some reason nobody could really explain. The least word could make her blush, laugh nervously as if while showing a bit of care, it was her whole mind she opened to perfect strangers to be read.

Blood was hitting against her temple in regular bits, causing a slight headache to weaken her body. Calmly, she let a sigh of satisfaction escape, slide along her lips as Will's scent was going straight to her head dizzily.

"Karen…"

Even her name in his mouth sounded different, softer. But where most of people would have melted before such sensation, she simply thought that it wasn't fair; that she would have given anything to be as comfortable as he was before the situation they were living because being torn like that was exhausting.

"Not now…"

"We need to talk."

She had never liked this sentence, even less in the morning but at least it was efficient enough for her to open her eyes and stare at him with anxiety.

"Don't tell me that I have ruined everything. I am really sorry if I look distant and cold sometimes. It is just that for some reason, it isn't easy for me. But that doesn't mean that I want to give up or anything."

The words were rushing out of her mouth without any control as she kept on shaking her head vehemently. She hadn't forgotten her confession of the previous night. Alcohol had helped, obviously, but it had been all about sincerity.

In an attempt to make her stop, Will grabbed her wrists and frowned. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the stress that was spreading over her mind.

"What is essential is invisible to the eye."

His comment only confused her even more and this time, she got to frown, perplexed.

"Why are you quoting _The little Prince_ at eight in the morning?"

Will smiled before her question, vaguely charmed by the fact that even sleepy, she did remember a lot of things.

"Because we are just like the Geographer, this guy who spends all his time making maps but who never leaves his desk to examine the world around him."

"Maybe you are but for my part I know that I am closer to the Tippler who drinks to forget that he is ashamed."

She hadn't thought twice before speaking. The words had come out with the strength of a bitter honesty and now they had hit the air, they hurt blankly. Before the stirred up discomfort, Karen cleared her voice and rolled on her back to take her distance from Will. _Confidences on the pillow… _She had never liked this.

"All I mean, Karen, is that we are blinded by facts and so we forget to properly live."

"That doesn't really help me. I'm sorry."

"Just let it go. Stop thinking that much. Let the wind carry you on. What are you afraid of?"

"To be taken away by a hurricane…"

Karen sat up in bed and plunged her face in her hands, sighing heavily. She shook her head.

"I don't want everything to change and yet I know it is happening, even before our relation goes into something different. I owe so much to the whole you belong to with Grace and Jack that I can't afford to break it all into pieces just for an odd feeling. I wish I had your certainty, Will. How can you be so secure before it?"

"I'm not, Karen. I'm scared to death. When finally I think I have managed to find the bases of my life, you enter the game and everything falls down within a second, all those references I had come to think as mine."

"But you still behave as if we were dating."

"Because we never know what will happen tomorrow…"

She didn't know what to reply and so she remained quiet instead, leaving some chance to Will to add something to his yet disturbing remark.

"I wish you could trust me, Karen."

"Oh, you know I do. The problem is me, just me. Maybe I'm not that self-confident person I behave as in public…"

"That makes your peculiar charm."

Will's choice of adjective made her smile. It suited her pretty well. She turned around, the blanket rustling under her movement, and leaned over to plant a light kiss on his lips.

It didn't sound perfect, their situation. There was something lame about it, an unsure future. But at the same time, if she had had to be honest, she had never liked perfection either.

Very slowly she looked up and locked her eyes with his then swallowed hard.

"Make love to me."

Her wish said out loud resulted enough to stir up a wave of dizzy warmness in her lower stomach. She wasn't smiling, didn't wear any makeup and her hair was probably messy but for the very first time in her life, she didn't care at all about appearances.

Will's hands slid on her back and he pulled her towards him, softly, as another quote of The little Prince resounded in her mind quietly:

_It is only with the heart that one can see rightly._


	22. The dangerous Liaisons

**The dangerous Liaisons, Choderlos de Laclos. 1782.**

**_It is the story of the Marquise de Merteuil and the Vicomte de Valmont, two rivals who use sex as a weapon to humiliate and degrade others, all the while enjoying their cruel games. It has been claimed to depict the decadence of the French aristocracy shortly before the French Revolution, thereby exposing the perversions of the so-called Ancien Régime. However it has also been described as a vague, amoral story._**

Manhattan had never looked so cold, so impersonal and abrupt. It had taken her two decades before the spell of the skyline finally vanished in a whirl of bitter illusions and all of a sudden the city she had thought hers had turned into a very lonely companion.

For three days it had cost her a lot to accept his presence by her side and now he had come back to his own place, leaving her in peace with her own persona, Karen felt empty and sad. Would she ever be able to be plenty satisfied of the moment? The years were passing by and the rhetorical question was reaching incomprehensible edges that turned her completely frustrated.

The Sunday night had been hard when she had found back her bed and its immensity, the iciness of the sheets. She had missed his breath against her neck, his scent and the way his hands had slid on her waist every time they had turned off the lights.

It had only been a weekend…

But maybe a mere second was enough to make it all tip over at the end.

"You're not listening to me at all."

Her eyes abandoned the contemplation of the nail varnish she had been applying absent-mindedly and she stared at Jack, a pale smile on the lips. She had asked him to stop by. When her loneliness had begun to weigh too much, she had grabbed her cell phone, restrained the urge to call Will and finally decided to speak with the lightest side of a friendship. Jack had arrived almost immediately, obviously curious to know how the wedding had gone, but his presence had only managed to emphasize a bare lack.

"Of course I am, honey."

"Hmm…"

Jack pouted, obviously not buying her reply the slightest bit. She couldn't blame him. Her tone of voice had been so blank that any kind of conviction wouldn't have found its place in the words she had used.

"Anyway, why are you still in your pajamas at this hour of the day, Karen? Is this some manse post-effect?"

His remark hurt her but she preferred not to scoff and instead simply held a little tighter her top against her, uncomfortable.

"I need to go for some shopping. I have nothing to wear anymore."

"You've put on weight."

"Why, thank you, Jack!"

This time she didn't hide the fact she had been offended by his remark as she let a mock of indignation invade her face.

"It is okay, Karen. But let's face it… We both know it's true."

It was but she had never liked talking about her weight and how she could gain pounds within weeks; how sometimes she let herself starving. She had never managed to maintain a healthy diet, no matter how tired her body was of it.

"Are you pregnant?"

Jack's question surprised her and she couldn't help but blush as a nervous laugh escaped from her mouth. She looked down, obviously very uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid I'm not a novice anymore in this field, honey. I know how to avoid such situations."

She abandoned the couch she had been sitting on and rushed to the kitchen to get a glass of water, more pushed by a needed distance than the idea of thirst. Jack's question was ridiculous but she couldn't help making the math in her head, just in case. Was she late?

She swallowed some water. It was icy.

She didn't even remember when she had got her period for the last time. Her life was just a mess but she knew with certainty that she wasn't pregnant. She would have felt something if she had been, no?

"You're seeing someone, aren't you?"

All of a sudden she regretted the large space of the mansion because even though the living-room of this apartment was big enough, it seemed narrow right now; narrow and oppressive.

"Excuse me?"

"When I asked you if you were pregnant, you didn't say that it was a surrealist idea since your husband had passed away. Instead you told me that you were being careful which implies a couple of things, doesn't it?"

She waited too long before replying but the fact was that he had taken her completely aback and she wasn't sure how to react.

"I'm not seeing anyone right now. I have just turned a page of my life and I need some time. I don't sleep with everyone, just like that."

Jack stood up, grabbed his jacket and laughed. Obviously her desperate attempt to win back the conversation entertained him a lot. Amused, he shook his head and shrugged.

"You are a very bad liar, Karen Walker."

"How dare you?"

"That's okay… I'm accustomed to it, now. This little secretive side of yours, how you categorically refuse to confess the slightest thing; it's part of the game, I suppose. Even though it's not always easy for me because I wonder if one day, you will accept to rely on me."

For some reason her incredulous gaze stopped on the book she had left on the floor a few hours earlier. It was the next novel Will had chosen, _The dangerous Liaisons_. She knew the story by heart, the intricate nets of poisonous stratagems of a couple of people who use others' feelings only to feed themselves with a semblance of a game, way too cruel.

She wasn't that mean, no matter what people could imagine. They would have probably compared her to the Marquise de Merteuil very easily for her capacity to manipulate everybody but the truth was that she would have never been able to be so nasty because on the contrary of the marquise, Karen was scared of people's feelings.

"Well, I have a date so I have to go now. Talk to you later, Kare…"

Jack planted a kiss on top of her head and as he reached the door, she finally found the strength to turn around and look at him, vaguely desperate. She didn't want to be alone. She needed someone by her side to reassure her implicitly, nodding that yes, everything would be alright. As if he had read into her mind, Jack winked.

"Ask your so-called secret lover to stop by. Isn't he there for that?"

"This is not really funny, Jackie."

The sadness in her voice took him vaguely aback but he didn't insist, knowing how she could react.

"If you're happy Karen, then we are."


	23. The Bridges of Madison County

**The Bridges of Madison County****, Robert James Waller. 1992.**

**_It tells the story of a married but lonely Italian woman living in the 1960s Madison County, Iowa, who engages in an affair with a National Geographic photographer from Bellingham, Washington visiting Madison County in order to create a photographic essay on the covered bridges in the area. The novel is presented as a novelization of a true story, but it is in fact entirely fiction. _**

The door opened, he poked his head inside and she couldn't help but smile, brightly. It had only been three days since they had come back to New York City but the hours seemed to have slowed down inexorably in the lapse of time they had got separated.

She didn't move from the couch she was sat on, only tended her arms to him as he stepped into her apartment and closed the door behind him.

She hugged him tight, plunging her face in the depths of his neck to breathe his most essential scent; to feel the heat of his body against her and have thus the conviction that it wasn't a dream.

"Is everything alright?"

Of course her gesture surprised him. She had never showed any kind of affection before, not that strong. And perhaps the fact she was shaking added something even more mysterious to the scene.

She passed her legs around his waist, forcing him to kneel down on the floor in front of her, and took her time to reply as if it actually required a scan of her emotions before.

"I miss you."

At least she had been honest. But for some reason, it took Will aback even more and he couldn't help but laugh a bit nervously.

"Well… I'm here, now."

Her lips made contact with his jaw in a trail of light kisses until she looked into his eyes with a rare intensity, a few inches away barely separated them. She still had her hands around his neck as his were on her waist.

"Don't leave before tomorrow morning, please."

"Okay. Anyway Grace knows that I'm here. I will call her to say that I won't go back home tonight."

A sudden incomprehension spread over Karen's mind and she raised her eyebrows, vaguely confused by Will's comment but he simply shrugged and smiled.

"It is not the first time we spend the night under the same roof."

"But…"

"Don't you have two bedrooms?"

For some mysterious reason the lightness of his tone didn't find resonance in her heart. She smiled a bit forcefully, stood up but a bit too quickly and she felt dizzy for a few seconds, losing her balance.

"Oh…"

Instinctively Karen brought her hand to her forehead then closed her eyes, frowning. It was surely not the first time she had to face such situation but she couldn't help being scared whenever it happened. What if she passed out, one day? She could hurt herself while falling down.

"Hey… Sit down. Are you okay?"

Karen quietly obeyed even though everything was back to normal now. It never lasted more than a few seconds.

"I'm late."

She had been thinking about it since Jack had left a few days earlier after having insinuated that she might have been pregnant. She had rushed on her agenda and turned the pages furiously until an odd truth had begun to pierce through her blurry anxiety.

Three weeks…

It wasn't a lot, especially since she had never been very regular but still. What if it meant something? From then on any kind of wonder had turned around an embarrassing hypothesis and the days had passed by in a complete effusion of doubts.

"Where are you supposed to go to?"

Will's question troubled her. Her eyes grew wider and she stared at him with confusion. She had hesitated. They didn't see each other every day, at least in the intimacy, and if she came up with such comment, she knew how the hours that would follow would be different. They wouldn't talk randomly, about literature and other things. They wouldn't make love and cuddle until they fell asleep. No, instead they would pace the few rooms of her apartment and get lost in a whirl of presumptions.

"No… I mean that I haven't got my period yet when I should have, three weeks ago."

"Do you… Have you…"

Will's legendary speech seemed to have vanished suddenly, swallowed by an impressive amount of uncertainty as if like her, he was finally lacking references.

"I know I have put on weight."

She made a face and looked down. A bottle of nail varnish had been abandoned next to the coffee table. It seemed lonely and lost, there; not at its place at all.

"But we… You're not on the pill?"

"Actually no, I'm not. But since we have always used a condom, I had no reason to worry about anything. Or at least I thought so."

"How about a pre… A test… Do you want me to buy one?"

He hadn't even dared to say the word as if like the venom of a snake, it could hurt and kill. She pretended not to have noticed but deep inside, an old injury began to bleed. She shook her head.

"No but I made an appointment with my gynecologist. I see her tomorrow in the afternoon. I prefer… I mean, I think it's safer. You know, just in case. It's better with a blood sample."

"Yeah… Sure, you're right."

But what if it turned out she actually was pregnant? It should have never happened and maybe now they were just paying of their own persons for having disobeyed and crossed the lines. There was always a time when the wind had to change its direction. And it was so cold, now.

Without any warning, Karen fell apart, breaking down into tears.

"I'm so sorry."

And all of a sudden, as she closed her eyes and abandoned herself against Will, images of The Bridges of Madison County flew back to her head. For years she had fantasized about a suite or simply wondered why the heroine hadn't stepped out of the car to follow the love her life instead of staying trapped in a fade marriage. It was pure suicide.

But maybe at the end, she had simply realized that some things were better when stuck to the past, before it being too late and the irreversibility of time hitting her straight in the face as Karen was living now.


	24. Beloved

**Beloved****, Toni Morrison. 1987.**

**_Sethe is an escaped slave in post-Civil War Ohio. Her body is scarred from the atrocities of her white owners, but it's her memories that really torture her: she killed her two-year-old daughter, Beloved, so the child would never know the sufferings of a life of servitude. But in Morrison's novels the present is never safe from the past, and Beloved returns as an angry, hungry ghost._**

She had insisted to be alone, how he needed to go to work because anyway, his presence by her side wouldn't change that much. Of course she would call him, after. Because whatever the results would be, he would still have a role to play in it. So he had gone away and she had found herself alone, smiling bitterly before the fact men were easy to lie to unless women just owned this capacity to manipulate the others' minds.

She would have wished she would have been able to say that everything had been fine, that it had just been a false alert and life went on as if nothing had happened but the results of her blood samples confirmed her doubts and from then on a wave of nausea settled over her heart, pressing on it with strength.

"Let's just see if we can get more info about that, okay?"

No, she hadn't been thrilled, not even a slight second. Obviously her gynecologist had noticed her discomfort but as a scientist, she had softly gone on; with delicacy though.

And then it had happened, as if she had just rushed in a wall of brick with an odd vitality.

"Hmm…"

The room had remained quiet in spite of the machine on. Of course the image of the ultra-sound had been incomprehensible for her because anyway, she had never been able to make out the slightest presence on such screenshots. But the silence… So she had turned her face around and stared at the scientist, scanning the worried expression of her face. Then she had understood, unfortunately.

"Karen, do you know what an ectopic pregnancy is?"

She hadn't answered, only looked down and nodded. It had seemed that something had been falling down inside of her, like a house of cards that the wind would have pushed away within a second. She had swallowed hard.

"It's not the first time, is it? You have to tell me now, Karen. I don't know a lot about your medical past but obviously…"

When she had bitten her lips, the taste of blood had invaded her mouth. She had frowned, closed her eyes.

"It's the third time, right?"

She had shaken her head, taken a deep breath before letting her voice hit the air through a veil of fragility.

"It's the fourth…"

And they both had known what it meant.

Then everything had speeded up like taken in a whirl. She had been admitted to the clinic immediately and signed the authorization for the operation, settling it for the exact afternoon.

"It would be great if you had someone by your side. I don't know, a friend maybe. Or your partner…"

She had almost swept away the scientist's suggestion but for once her pride hadn't found a light bright enough to blind all the rest and with a shaking hand, she had called Will. An hour had passed by since the diagnostic had been revealed and while she had remained kind of lost in a blank state until then, as soon as she had heard his voice, she hadn't managed to control her tears anymore.

The door flew open and she looked at him in silence. Her eyes were burning and her hands were cold. She hadn't stopped crying, unsure if it had been more by despair or fear.

Very slowly, Will made a few steps in the room. His arms found her body in an awkward hug. He seemed shocked, uncomfortable and embarrassed. But after a few seconds his lips nonetheless found her head and he planted a soft kiss on top of it then cleared his voice.

No, he wasn't uncomfortable but intimated.

"I should call…"

"No."

She hadn't been rude but categorical, a bit too harsh though. Frowning, she swept the words away with a vague gesture of her hand and sighed.

"How would I explain them about my situation when I keep on saying that I'm not seeing anyone? We all know that it wasn't Stanley's child."

How had she managed to already use the past when nothing had been done yet? It was weird how sometimes you could grow accustomed to the worst of the situations.

"It could be any kind of emergency, not necessarily an ectopic pregnancy."

Resigned or disarmed, she nodded. It would have been impossible to hide it from her friends who used to see her every day. Not that it would explain all the rest but still…

"This is my fourth ectopic pregnancy, Will. Do you know what it means?"

For once she would have loved being in possession of a lot more tact but the words were sliding on her lips with all the abruptness of her life. Since he didn't reply, barely shrugged, Karen focalized on the wall in front of her and tried to ignore the weight of the sentences that would escape her mouth.

"It means that I can't avoid a salpingectomy which is the removal of the whole Fallopian tube… And so I won't… I won't be able to…"

"Is it because of your epilepsy?"

Before her difficulty to finish the cold explanation that would nonetheless lead to her irrevocable infertility, Will's intervention curiously warmed up her heart, vaguely.

"No but it might have been caused by an appendectomy that I had when I was six."

And she had kept on living all these years without knowing the slightest thing.

All of a sudden, a burning anger began to boil in her lower stomach, rushing to her heart under high pressure. They shouldn't have been talking about that. They shouldn't have found themselves in some clinic of Manhattan. Since when a book club led to the coldness of a vital operation that would still leave a thousand invisible sequels? It was all about literature and how they shared some time over a novel; how they could enjoy each other's presence. It had nothing to do with Fallopian tubes and the end of a suspended idea that even though it had always seemed so far, had never ceased to entirely be a part of Karen's mind.

"We moved to Canada when I was eight and one of our neighbors out there just had had a baby. It was a little girl, so tiny that for a few weeks I didn't dare to take her in my arms. She died in her sleep before turning one, before we made contact, some skin-to-skin. I know it's unexpected because I always tend to say the exact opposite but from then on, I knew that I wanted to have a baby and it would be a girl. And just like her, I would call her Anaïs. But mine is dead even before existing…"

A nurse came in at this exact moment and smiled softly at Karen.

"Are you ready?"

Sethe had killed her daughter to avoid her to suffer. She was about to do the same but for a reason she wasn't sure to ever understand.


	25. The Suicide Club

**The Suicide Club****, Robert Louis Stevenson. 1878.**

**_The Suicide Club is a cycle of three 19th century detective fiction short stories that combine to form a single narrative. The trilogy introduces the characters of Prince Florizel of Bohemia and his sidekick Colonel Geraldine. In this cycle they infiltrate a secret society of people intent on losing their lives upon a game._**

Everyone would have wanted nothing but to wake up though for once, Karen wouldn't have minded if she hadn't because as soon as she regained consciousness, a deep emptiness spread coldly over her heart. She didn't need to open her eyes to feel it. It seemed that she had just suffered a lethal injection or some product susceptible to paralyze her body, depriving it of any sign of life with the only difference that unfortunately, she hadn't died.

The night at the clinic flew away like an odd dream and very soon she found herself back home or so because something was missing, there, inside of her; something she couldn't properly name but that yet had had its importance throughout all the previous years.

She went straight to bed, following her gynecologist's advice that she would need a three-day rest before doing anything else. Anyway she wouldn't have felt fine to do the slightest thing. The world hadn't stopped but her life had been, somehow, suspended.

She probably missed a couple of things because Will decided to remain by her side all along. Apparently he had called his office and his boss had agreed upon a work from home except for very important meetings. Now she had left the mansion, her life didn't depend on a whole maid service and yet she needed someone by her side for at least a week.

Jack and Grace stayed too on the first day she got released but after some time, she began to wonder if their sudden silence was caused by her need to rest or a heavy embarrassment before her health problems. Jack didn't even plunge under the blankets to hold her. Almost shyly, he remained on a chair by her side, caressing her hand during hours while Grace poked her head by the door from time to time, smiling.

As for Will, they hadn't had time yet for a face-to-face. She had been too tired at the clinic and then time had flown away through a blurry cloud of discomfort as soon as they crossed each other's gaze. Of course things had changed, definitely. It wouldn't be the same anymore between them but anxiously enough, she wasn't sure of what was left.

And the night came again, seeing Grace and Jack leaving her alone with Will.

The worst of all was that nothing hurt but her heart, as if her body was still under anesthesia. She did have painkillers but unfortunately they didn't work for what ached.

"How are you feeling?"

His hand brushed her forehead. She gave him a pale smile as he sat down on the edge of the mattress of her bed. Would he sleep with her tonight? Her sentiments and wishes were mixed. The rest was just a complete mess.

"I'm sorry."

His confession hit her unexpectedly and stirred up a strong confusion in her mind. What was he talking about exactly? She was the one to blame for not having been careful enough in this story.

"Don't be stupid."

First words of the day and they slid in the air like an old regret barely confessed. Her voice was hoarse and tired, on the verge to break into tears. But curiously enough, she hadn't cried yet. Perhaps she had just reached a limit the day before.

"Are you in pain?"

Instinctively she shook her head. It seemed to reassure him, vaguely.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

This time she nodded and he settled down by her side carefully. His leg brushed hers but he took it off immediately, afraid to hurt her in any way. It made her smile but she didn't say anything. There weren't words needed, not now.

"What have you been reading lately?"

Her question probably surprised him but he didn't make any remark about it, just played along. She might not have been very talkative but the sound of someone's voice was still less worst than the cold silence of the room.

"The Suicide Club… Have you read it?"

Karen shook her head but couldn't help raising an eyebrow before the dark title of the novel. Perhaps she shouldn't have asked him, finally.

"What is it about?"

"Gentlemen who are members of some private club in England and how the winner of their odd games, gets the chance to die."

"At least it doesn't let the reader completely indifferent."

And she liked that. She had always had a thing for people who didn't fit stupidly in the crowd, without thinking about the reasons why they didn't want to be different, unique. Shocking was so daring…

"Have you ever thought about suicide?"

Against all expectations, starting with her owns, it didn't take her long at all to reply.

"No, I'm not like that."

No matter life hurt and broke her down slowly, reducing into pieces some of her dreams, Karen came to the odd conclusion that she still wanted to exist.

"Besides, I might still be able to have a baby."

When she had woken up at the clinic and that the surgeon had come to see her, he had told her that they hadn't needed to remove both of her Fallopian tubes which meant her infertility wasn't total. She had feigned to be happy, like now in bed next to Will, but she wasn't stupid either.

At almost forty years old, her chances had been immensely reduced.

And what would happen if she got another ectopic pregnancy? For some reason, she wasn't sure she would ever be able to overcome it.

"I always thought that life was a game but maybe Stevenson was right at the end… And it's not life but death that deserves to be won."

"What do you mean, Kare?"

"We need to go through some compromises while being alive to finally deserve an eternal rest, somewhere apart."


	26. Go Ask Alice

**Go Ask Alice****, Anonymous. 1971.**

**_It is a controversial book about the life of a troubled teenager girl. The book purports to be the actual diary of an anonymous teenage girl who died of an overdose in the late 1960s and is therefore presented as a testimony against drug use. Alice isn't the protagonist's name; the actual diarist's name is never given in the book. A girl named Alice is briefly mentioned in one entry during the diarist's stay in Coos Bay, Oregon; she is a fellow addict the diarist meets on the street. Despite this, some commentators refer to the diarist as "Alice" in error or for the sake of convenience._**

And then the days passed by with the cruel, abrupt logic that nothing had stopped just because of what she had been living. Grace and Jack came from time to time as Will remained in an odd background, quietly enough as if he were scared to trouble her cold despair. Marilyn called too but the most surprising occurred on the following Friday. She had remained in bed for five days in a week, led by a vague sentiment of abandon, when all of a sudden a large bouquet of lilies passed the door of her room. With curiousness, she picked up the card and scanned the words.

"Who told her?"

Her voice had been cold if not completely icy but as she looked up at Will, he didn't need to reply for it being implicit. A bitter laugh escaped from her mouth, with pain, and she bit her lip as if to restrain some tears.

"She didn't even stop by. I could have died that it wouldn't have changed anything for her; no matter I'm her child."

She kept the flowers though and turned her back at Will, pretending thus she was tired.

Why did it hurt so much when all she would have loved to was to keep on ignoring these things? Her eyes remained concentrated on the wall until the whiteness turned grey and it set off a light headache. A couple of hours had probably flown away now. She had lost the mere reference of time but as she rolled on her back, she realized that her mouth was dry and she was thirsty.

It spread over her mind like that, like a sort of boiling urge growing in her stomach before caressing her feet and seducing her heart.

Very slowly, Karen got up and left the room; heading to the stairs without a sound. The floor was soft under her bare feet, almost warm. She grabbed the banister and let her body carry her down to the living-room. The lights had been turned on, contrasting with the darkness of her bedroom. However the same silence seemed to reign over, sadly enough.

She turned her head around and stopped to observe Will. He was sat on one of the couches, leaned forward and focalized on a pile of papers; a mug of coffee by his side. From the stairs, Karen took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak but suspended her gesture at the last second. She frowned, unsure of her sudden decision and finally headed to the kitchen in silence.

The contact of the glass with the countertop resulted enough for Will to turn around and he immediately stood up, ran to her.

"Is everything alright?"

He looked worried, deeply hurt and disarmed. The sadness in his features got harshly reflected against her heart as if it made it bleed with invisibility.

A couple of days before he had suggested her to get up and join him downstairs; she would have sat down on the couch next to him and let the hours fly by but not trapped as she was in the darkness of a bedroom where bitterness and pain seemed to have taken possession of every single inch. She had vehemently refused, whispering coldly that she wasn't ready; that there was nothing waiting for her anywhere so she could very well stay under the blankets and let people think she was exhausted. He hadn't insisted and left, only coming back for meals and for the night. It was the moment she expected the most at the end, the only part when she vaguely felt alive.

And there she was now, standing on her feet in the kitchen.

The water slid coldly on her throat. She put back the glass on the counter and all of a sudden leaned her forehead against Will's chest then shook her head in a silent response to his question. His arms instinctively got wrapped around her waist as she felt his chin on the top of her head.

"I feel empty."

"Do you want me to ask Grace and Jack not to come today?"

"No… I just wonder when it will stop; when I will feel free and start living again as I used to before. I'm so tired of it. It's dragging me down, Will… I feel like I'm a drug addict in need of a fix and yet I know that if I do, it will be over; just a fatal, last trip."

But she nonetheless stayed by his side, laid on a couch quietly. Her friends showed up with Chinese takeouts and she tried to enjoy the evening, smiling appropriately; no matter how painful it turned. She still knew she was lucky, in spite of all. Her life might have been a mess, a precarious house of cards that had just suffered a terrible hurricane but some bases remained, like her friends.

And Will…

She kept on looking at him all along, studying his gestures and the way he kept his distance with her. He was good at it, maybe too much. It probably meant something, exactly like their so-called relation. Whenever she dared to make a step forward, something broke down into pieces.

It couldn't be just a series of misfortunate coincidences.


	27. On the Road

**On the Road****, Jack Kerouac. 1957.**

**_It is a largely autobiographical work that was based on the spontaneous road trips of Kerouac and his friends across mid-century America. It is often considered a defining work of the post-war Beat Generation that was inspired by jazz, poetry and drug experiences. While many of the names and details of Kerouac's experiences are changed for the novel, hundreds of references in On the Road have real world counterparts. _**

The contact of the lipstick with her flesh warmed up her heart immediately and all of a sudden she stopped shaking while the anticipated anxiousness flew away. The automatism over her gesture owned such familiarity that like a shield, it wrapped up her frame of a strong sentiment of security. Everything would come back, little by little, and one day she would wake up feeling alive like in the past.

The blush caressed her cheeks, the perfume embraced her neck and with a newly found vitality Karen stood up to observe her reflection in the mirror of her bedroom.

Nobody would have ever guessed, anything. She hadn't lost weight and her complexion was pure. She looked healthy, carrying no visible scar. As a matter of fact the delicate satin of her top brought a sexy shade to her body and she surprised herself loving it.

Her heels resounded loudly in the stairs as she went down to the living-room. It was a sound she had missed, the peculiar distinction of self-secured steps and determination. A week and a half had passed by and obviously swept away the first moments of dark disillusions. So when she had woken up caressed by the morning sun, Karen had known that it might have been time to go ahead and make contact with the rest of the world again. She would just need to put aside her fragility and ignore it for a while. Maybe it would end up going away.

Taking a deep breath, she approached Will who was sat at the table, plunged in the reading of some contract. When he didn't look up after a few seconds, a wave of wonders spread over her mind and made her feel nervous. It had happened over and over since she had come back from the clinic, whenever she was left alone with him. He was nice, attentive and sweet but something was missing like an ounce of honesty in his gestures.

Dancing on her feet, Karen cleared her voice to get his attention. He smiled, absent-mindedly though.

"This suits you very well."

She had spent all her time in her pajamas and if it hadn't been for Jack mistaking her for a life-size doll, she wouldn't have brushed her hair and filed her nails either. But there she was, wearing a deep red satin top with a black knee-length skirt; makeup on.

"Thank you. I… Hmm, I was thinking that maybe we could go out for a while. You know, find a bench in Central Park or something. It is a rather sunny day and most of all, I think I'm ready."

"I can't, I have a lot of work. Sorry."

In other circumstances, she would have probably slapped him and yelled that he was behaving with cruelty. But she never got the occasion this time. Her heart seemed to melt down almost immediately, taking away the warm shades of happiness that nonetheless seemed to have been so real a second earlier. Now it looked all blurry.

"Oh… But it doesn't necessarily have to be long."

"Karen, I have work going on. Don't you understand?"

No, she really didn't. His promises and hopes over the two of them seemed to have flown away as soon as she had called him from the clinic and everything had been lost in a cold rush. He hadn't abandoned her and even managed to stay home from his work to be by her side but obviously something had got broken and she didn't know what exactly.

She nodded and left, passed the door without realizing that it was supposed to be her first step towards the beginning of the rest of her life and how she would have loved celebrating it. Instead, as she stepped out on the street, she hurriedly put on her sunglasses so that people wouldn't see that she was vaguely crying, messing up thus the makeup she had applied meticulously.

She walked up aimlessly for a couple of hours, just looking at New York and the boiling life she had missed so much. But it was grey, like in her heart. Will should have been by her side if their relation still made sense to him and right now, there was nothing less sure.

From her frustration grew her anger and as she finally came back home, a silent rage was running through her veins. But he wasn't there, nor was his briefcase. Did he have a meeting? If so she didn't remember that he had told her about it. Tired, Karen took off her heels and lie down on the couch then closed her eyes. She needed some sleep.

The door got slammed and as she woke up, she knew it was him but for some reason she remained still on the couch, didn't open her eyes. She was mad at him, scared that she might have lost him when they had barely started anything. Why did her relationships always end up failing?

She heard him let go of his briefcase and his steps suddenly approached. Her eyes remained tightly closed and as in her sleep she had turned her back at the rest of the living-room, she found herself facing now the couch. His hand brushed her hair, softly.

"I'm so sorry…"

His words got stifled by a restrained sigh as he began to sob quietly in her back. She was surprised, almost disarmed by the unexpected scene. It didn't make sense at all.

"Oh Kare, I'm so sorry. I just wanted us to be happy and look what I've done to you. I broke you down into pieces. You shouldn't have gone through that. It should have been me. You kept on saying that an "us" didn't make sense but I kept on insisting and now you carry on the damages of my stupidity... I'm so sorry."

His whispered confession froze her heart and took away her mind through the fury of some incontrollable whirl. As much as she was beginning to understand the awkwardness and artificiality of his pastbehavior, a strong pain had taken possession over all the rest because she knew that he wasn't to blame.

She owed him so much if she had had to be honest. On many occasions his presence by her side had buried bitter cries that she hadn't needed to face once back home and that, way before their friendship took another way. He had showed up on the road of a life she had started alone, coldly, and he had made it so bright that all of a sudden laid down on this couch, Karen realized she would always need him now. Will was more than a mere friend on the road of her life.

In a last sigh he stopped speaking. Had he moved away? She wouldn't have been able to say because when she opened her eyes she remained there, facing the couch. She swallowed hard.

"I love you."

Her words got lost in a deep silence, clearly enounced though. For a few seconds she didn't move but before his absence of reaction, Karen finally turned around and surprisingly enough realized that he hadn't left and was still by her side.

She locked her eyes with his, bit her lower lip.

"I love you."

She would have never thought that finding back the warmth of his arms around her would make her feel so alive.


	28. Summer Crossing

**Summer Crossing****, Truman Capote. Published in 2005 after having been found by accident**

**_The rich, beautiful, flame-haired, defiant Grady is the sort of girl people stare at across a room. The daughter of an important man, she is the girl people want to be introduced to. But the privileged society life of parties, debutantes and dresses leaves her wanting more than her parents and conventional sister Apple have in mind for her. Excitement comes in the form of the highly unsuitable Clyde, a Brooklyn-born, Jewish parking attendant. Soon, she will be forced to make decisions that will forever affect her future once the long, sultry summer of 1945 comes._**

Soon enough Will came back to his apartment but this time, she didn't care. It sounded right, perfect for the both of them. Lunches and dinners, professional meetings at her place in the evening began to give rhythm to their lives and all of a sudden they were taken away in a soft routine made of a thousand secrets.

They didn't want to lie that much but simply take their time, taste fully whatever the days could bring to their respective hearts and then, according to the evolution of things, they would make a decision when they felt ready.

It was still weird, somehow; how their friendship could have taken such direction as if it had been written and was yet completely unexpected. She didn't like thinking about it because then her wonders turned up in doubts, developing thus a high sentiment of uncertainty. She wasn't made for him. She couldn't be. They were so different and yet so similar that it made it all confuse and blurry.

The summer invaded Manhattan with its typical, unbearable heat. The sun was burning, the air was rare and life seemed to have slowed down in the city that never slept.

In August they all decided to run away for a while and enjoy the chilly air of some seaside town. The Bed and Breakfast was small and very friendly. Coincidence or not, they got given bedrooms with a shared bathroom and their nocturnal encounters found the paleness of the moon looking after their lust, the sweetness of an odd love. When the morning showed up, she went back to her bed and life simply went on as if nothing had happened. Did they get closer that summer? Karen wouldn't have been able to say but it did settle the premises of a decision that the colors of the fall brought along.

"I think we should tell them."

September was going away slowly and the rain had come back over New York a week ago announcing yet the return of the fall. Lie down on her bed, quietly reading against him, Karen abandoned the words she had concentrated on to stare at the wall in front of her.

She hadn't thought about the suggestion. It had come up like that, with some evidence in her voice that sounded reassuring enough to avoid any failure.

"You really think so?"

She couldn't help noticing the happiness in his tone. Not that he had been pressing her or anything but for the past few weeks, Will had introduced the idea that it might have been time to stop hiding what now looked like a relationship.

"Yeah… I'm not sure I want to keep on pretending."

So they decided that the exact evening, they would tell Grace and Jack that they were actually dating; as much as the expression sounded odd and rather surreal.

She would have never imagined that making light over one of her relationships would be so nervous-wracking. No mattered her friends' reaction, she would still keep on seeing Will but it would own this shade of bitterness she dreaded so much; as well as the possibility that Will wouldn't follow if it had to damage his relation with Grace. Then she would be alone, and sad.

The salad looked good but she couldn't touch it. Nobody seemed to notice though. She turned her head around, looked at Will. They had to speak now or she wouldn't be able to handle it any longer. Before her quiet supplication, Will cleared his voice and pressed her hand. He was shaking but curiously enough his own fear warmed up her heart and she smiled brightly.

"Hmm, we have something to tell you. I mean, Karen and I want to… Well, actually it's rather unexpected and it might look like it's coming from nowhere when it has been thought about and studied a thousand times but, anyway… Karen and I…"

"Are seeing each other yeah, we already know about that… Jack, may I have some bread please?"

"Oh sure…"

Grace and Jack barely looked up at them and kept on eating, not really touched or surprised by the news. Against all expectations, Karen felt a vague disappointment. As much as nobody had thrown a scene and so it should have been a relief, it would have seemed better if she had had to justify the situation; a bit fairer.

"Excuse me?"

Jack rolled his eyes before her obvious surprise. The roles had been reversed without any warning.

"Oh come on, we're not blind. The way you look at each other, Will taking care of you after your operation, the impressive amount of evenings and nights you spend together…"

For the very first time Karen accepted to spend the night over, with Will. For the very first time they didn't hide anything and it seemed that the world had just kept on turning until she got up to get a glass of water, coming face-to-face with Grace. She knew it was stupid but she still felt guilty before her friend who once, had also wanted Will.

"I'm thirsty."

"Then feel free… And I wanted to tell you that it's okay. I'm not mad at you or anything."

Karen bit the inside of her mouth and nodded, a bit taken aback by the sudden comment. It almost sounded like an apology coming from her friend.

"But it's painful, isn't it?"

"I will need time for sure but it's all about me. Besides, let's face it… I know he made the right decision, over the right person. Haven't I said you were the perfect couple? It might be curious but whenever I thought about Will and a child, this baby had to be yours."

"That's not about to happen though. I'm on the pill and I don't plan to go into any kind of pregnancy."

The sharpness of her reply hit them both with all the coldness of fragile emotions and invisible scars that would never be buried even by a million silent regrets. It had seemed reasonable enough though when she had seen her gynecologist again. She had gone through way too many things to still give a hope to the existence of a baby.

"Oh but who knows? Will is so into the idea of having a child that he might make you change your mind at some point."

"I don't think so."

Harsh and cold… If she had made a decision over the summer concerning her relationship, she had also settled down the idea of an eventual pregnancy.


	29. Little Women

**Little Women****, Louisa May Alcott. 1868.**

**_Written and set in the Alcott family home, Orchard House, in Concord, Massachusetts, the novel follows the lives of four sisters _Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March_ and is loosely based on the author's childhood experiences with her three sisters. Each of the March girls must struggle to overcome a major character flaw. They must work out to live up to their mother and father's high expectations as mothers, wives, sisters, and citizens._**

She had always wanted a big family, a supportive one that wouldn't break into pieces if one of them had to die. Because it was exactly what had happened to hers and barely reaching her seventh year of life, she hadn't had enough time to properly enjoy the sentiment of some family pride.

She had a younger sister and an older brother but circumstances and a couple of misfortunate events had prevented her from seeing them for already what looked like fifteen years. They never called each other, never visited anyone. It seemed that their father had taken with him in his grave the fragile desire of happiness they had had once.

So naïve enough, she had imagined that she would get her revenge through her own family. In her most perfect fantasies, she was the mother of four; only girls. She wouldn't make boys, never, because they had made her suffer too much. They wouldn't live in some insignificant suburban area but downtown New York City because once you had had the chance to taste Manhattan you couldn't go away from it very long. The image of a potential father was blurry in her mind since at the end, all she was looking for was easing a strong desire she had developed through the years.

She had grown up, left the house and got married. Once, twice, three times but still no baby… The truth was that her husbands never talked about it, never suggested anything and so she imagined that it would come up later, at some point. But then she got a divorce and everything fell down. Was she obsessed by the idea of maternity? Perhaps something grew up inside of her but its quietness stifled everything and people began to believe that it wasn't meant to be.

And then, while she hadn't asked for anything, she suffered all these ectopic pregnancies. The first one had been the worst because it had never crossed her mind that it could turn that way. How come most of women went through it without any issue and she was unable to do it as well? What was wrong with her body? She had really thought that her turn had arrived and her dream of a family was about to start.

It was like a soufflé that would have been taken out of the oven too early and very slowly it was losing its figure, the exact reason why it was there in the first place. The deception couldn't be hidden very well but since she had at least had the chance _ or thought it was a chance _ not to tell anyone about it she had turned the page over and over whenever the diagnostic hit the air and her fragile reality.

If nothing happened by accident then it had to be a sign, that all this suffering had a reason to be and some conclusions to get from it. She was still alive, and loved now.

"Red is your color. It is passionate, intense and sensual, just like you. You are not a diva Karen but a very seductive woman."

"What date is it, today?"

"It is October, 21st but are you listening to me? Go for the red dress. You are stunning in it."

As much as Jack's compliments had always flattered her ego, they had lost of their power all of a sudden and she couldn't help finding them irritating. She wasn't in a good mood, way too anxious and confused. How come she wasn't sure of the amount of pills she had taken? It was very simple but yet for some reason, it seemed she had skipped one and counting over and over the tablet that was left only managed to increase the shaking of her hands.

The weeks had passed by and what had looked like a slight post-operation discomfort about the idea of being pregnant had suddenly turned into an obsession. She was a control freak, forcing Will to use a condom when she actually was on the pill. He didn't know about her own contraceptive and respected her choice, probably thinking that she wasn't ready yet and would need time after four ectopic pregnancies. But the truth was that her fear had reached the stage of some deep aversion and she couldn't fail, not even once, before her birth control pills.

"Karen, can I come…"

"I am not ready!"

She pushed the door of the bathroom with her foot as she heard Jack approaching and looked at the tablet a bit disarmed.

Skipping once and the nightmare could come back, just like the snapping of fingers before her face. She had to be careful and not let any remorse take possession of her. That was her main problem when she stopped and analyzed the situation. Grace's words never ceased to come back to her head and she knew that her friend was right; that she should at least tell Will that there was no promise of a child as much as it had sounded tempting a while ago. Sometimes she liked thinking that she just needed time as people said and so she didn't have to completely give up her own family pride fantasy; the four girls she was supposed to have and get raised in Manhattan.

But the game seemed too hard.

In a complete uncertainty she grabbed a pill and gulped it down. Her breath was short, not as she had just run but as if she had just had to face one of her biggest fears. She avoided the reflection of her face in the mirror and bit the inside of her mouth with rage. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes briefly then rushed out of the bathroom and nodded.

"Let's go for the red dress. I have to be stunning."


	30. Madame Bovary, End

**Madame Bovary****, Gustave Flaubert. 1857. End.**

**_The story focuses on a doctor's wife, Emma Bovary, who has adulterous affairs and lives beyond her means in order to escape the banalities and emptiness of provincial life. Though the basic plot is rather simple, even archetypal, the novel's true heart lies in its details and hidden patterns. Flaubert was notoriously a perfectionist about his writing and claimed always to be searching for 'le mot juste' (the right word)._**

As Flaubert had claimed to be searching for "the right word", she was going through a quest for "the right feeling". This was how she saw things, now; how her life was supposed to evolve according to her heart and not following the exact opposite path of her secret wishes. She was just afraid that looking for it all along would only make her miss it out and so she wouldn't understand the exact principles of humans' existences.

But she still could give it a try. It might have been worth it.

When she came in the apartment, the lights had been turned on and the Christmas tree seemed to be shining with an odd sentiment of warmth. She had always liked the winter. The coldness of the air got mixed with a spirit of cohesion and the fusion resulted into unforgettable moments. Of course this was on the paper because in real life, it never completely turned that way though this year Karen had hopes for some better things, starting with a long-dreamed family spirit.

"So how was your weekend?"

Grace was sat on the couch, reading some novel; a mug of hot chocolate by her side. Had she been waiting for them to come back? Karen studied her for a couple of seconds absent-mindedly then smiled.

"The Adirondacks are beautiful at this time of the year. It was very peaceful, an amazing moment."

The summer had been taken away by the fall that had subtly slid into the winter with the delicacy of things supposed to match each other with the sweetest logic. And she was still with Will. Their relation seemed to make it through the time with a strength that never ceased to amaze her. It was even scaring sometimes but perhaps it was just what love was supposed to be and for the very first time in her life, she was experiencing it.

She abandoned her travel bag by the door, took her coat off and headed to the kitchen. She hadn't put her heels on since the exact morning she was still walking in the snow, and she surprised herself missing the sound of them against the hardwood floor as if it were her melody, the distinctive music of her persona. It was surely part of her but there were so many other aspects that people didn't imagine about her. She should give them a chance.

"Where is Will, by the way?"

"He's parking the car. He dropped me off in front of the building."

Instinctively she grabbed a bottle of wine as well as a glass but suspended her gesture and stared for a moment at the items in her hands. She was turning her back at Grace, hiding thus the scene to her friend. She swallowed hard, frowned.

"His mother called. She wants to know if you're still coming to her place on Christmas Day."

"I guess so, yes."

Her voice sounded distant, not really concerned by the subject. The bottle of wine in her left hand had all her attention as a thousand wonders were rushing to her head.

"Good…"

"Hmm…"

She finally turned around and leaned against the countertop of the kitchen, a glass of water in hand. Something was boiling in her stomach, a very odd feeling of guilt mixed with doubts. She took a sip, closed her eyes and tried to let the quietness of the evening rock her along. She needed to calm down, maybe to run away again and see what would come next. As much as Manhattan was the heart of her existence, strangely enough it was always when she was somewhere else that she felt alive and fine.

"What are you reading?"

"Madame Bovary… I found it in Will's bedroom."

Her question had been completely random but when the words hit the air she couldn't help jumping. A shiver ran down her spine as her heart speeded up its pace. The mechanic of a body always revealed so many things.

She took another sip of water. Grace looked up at her.

"Have you read it?"

Karen took a deep breath and looked aside, her eyes getting lost in the contemplation of the Christmas tree.

She remembered the hotel suite, how the pale light of the spring was piercing through the large windows and she desperately avoided his gaze because the scene was awkward. Yet by then she wasn't indifferent to him. As a matter of fact, it had all begun when they had dance for Valentine's Day, when they had kissed.

She hadn't been expecting anything from him except a couple of hours a week that would make her forget about the rest like the failure of her marriage and Stanley's arrest.

They would bond over literature; have an open conversation enjoying a glass of wine and the rare opportunity to be able to let the masks fall down without anyone else witnessing it. It was just supposed to be a book club, their book club.

But for some reason it hadn't happened that way. They had kissed again and slept together, crossing thus the lines of settled plans and making their lives tip over. Had the storm finally ceased, after almost a year? It seemed that they had gone through everything so quickly, from a failed pregnancy to the disillusions of so-called dreams.

Karen abandoned the kitchen and came closer to her friend, slowly as if every step equaled to an injury she was trying to ease.

So many things had happened…

Her last wonder went for the weekend they had just spent in the Adirondacks and how for some reason, she hadn't gone through her birth control pill ritual of the evening. It might not work _ after all she was about to turn forty _ but it seemed that time was bringing back a couple of dreams, a couple of hopes to her.

The door flew open and Will came in. He smiled at her.

It had all started with Madame Bovary.

So she looked at Grace then nodded.

"Yes I have read it and I am sure you will love it as much as I did."


End file.
